


Getting to know you, getting to know all about you

by edenforest



Series: Times are good or bad, happy or sad [1]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Angst, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Smut, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Romance, Sex, Slow Burn, gallya
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-04-26 01:33:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 49,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4984792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edenforest/pseuds/edenforest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>London in October (1-3). There's Gaby who loves her car, Illya who dislikes television, Napoleon who likes to push Gaby and Illya together, and a small apartment.<br/>New York in January (4-6). There's Gaby who's arm is broken, Illya who suggested a knife fight, Napoleon who is afraid that Illya takes his woman, and a blizzard.<br/>Gibraltar in April (7-9). There´s Gaby who doesn’t like sharks, Illya who gets a kiss, Napoleon who meets a muse, and a sailboat.<br/>Moscow in August (10-13). There´s Gaby who bakes, Illya who doesn’t want to lie, Napoleon who gets naked with Gaby, and a bunker.<br/>Scotland in September (14-16). There´s Gaby who saves the jam, Illya who loses his job, Napoleon who knows a frog when he sees one, and a hunting lodge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wrench in bed

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t believe in love at first sight. I believe you can like somebody right away, and want someone right away, but to love, you need to know that someone. And as poetic it would be, I don’t think you can know someone at first sight. So this is people getting to know each other, before they can love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picture to go with the story: [London, October](http://edenforest.tumblr.com/post/142778473620/getting-to-know-you-getting-to-know-all-about)

A cruel ringing of the phone woke Gaby up. There was a forest and juggling bear in her dream and now it all vanished to the dark room like a steam. The phone rang again and Gaby grabbed it with difficulty.

“Hello,” she mumbled into the phone.

“Is Jimmy there?” a voice from the other end of the line asked.

“There’s no Jimmy here,” Gaby said apologetically and turned the bedside lamp on.

“I must have the wrong number,” the voice said, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Gaby reassured and put the phone down. Then she pushed the blanket away and pulled her striped dressing gown over her pajamas. She rushed to yank her shoes on, grabbed her keys and ran out of the apartment.

Brisk wind waved her dressing gown and penetrated her skin through the thin pajamas. But Gaby didn’t have time to worry about that. Jimmy meant urgent. She rushed down the stairs to the street and started to run. She ran to the end of the street, then turned left, next right, another one right and then straight ahead. Her mouth tasted like iron and she could hear the phone ringing. Gaby rushed to the phone booth on the dark street and picked up the shaking phone.

“Autumn is late this year,” a woman’s voice said on the phone.

“It doesn’t matter,” Gaby panted, “because I like summer.” Gaby heard the low rattle when the line was connecting again. Then a familiar voice spoke in her ear.

“So sorry about the time, Gaby,” Waverly apologized, “But there is a matter of two misplaced agents, and you are in the right place and qualified to handle the job.”

“Yes,” Gaby sighed and tried to calm her breath. “What’s happened?”

“Well it’s the Frauthberg case. I sent two agents to check this factory where there might be some trafficking happening. And then, unfortunately, there were quite a few more people there than our original inquiry showed. So there was some hassle and now our friends have disappeared somewhere. I have no doubt that they are just fine, but we really can’t find them. There are no working trackers and I really don’t know how they think or where they would head in that sort of a situation.”

“How will I know?” Gaby asked. ”Who did you send?”

“I sent our friends from other agencies, Solo and Kuryakin,” Waverly said. “I thought I’d already told you that. Maybe I just assume that you would know who I was talking about. “

“Right,” Gaby muttered. It was so like Napoleon and Illya to get in trouble just when she had some days off. She wedged the phone between her cheek and shoulder and pulled the dressing gown tight around her. She was freezing. She really did like summer more.

“So your team is somewhere lost and I need you kindly retreat them to home safely,” Waverly said. “I will contact you in the morning.”

“Yes,” Gaby huffed.

“I do find it strange that the CIA’s finest and KGB’s best are always giving me troubles,” Waverly pondered on the phone. ”And I will of course reimburse your days off.”

“Thank you,” Gaby said. Waverly gave her the address to the factory. It was up to her to find Napoleon and Solo based on that. Gaby ended the call and hurried home. She didn’t run anymore. Illya and Napoleon just had to survive without her running.

She threw her dressing gown on an armchair and yanked her red coat on instead. She wrapped a scarf around her neck and checked that her gloves were in her coat pockets. She grabbed an apple and car keys and ran out again.

 Gaby rushed down the street, but slowed down when she reached her car. She slid her fingers against its shiny and smooth bonnet. It was so cold. Gaby smiled and sighed as her hand moved along the rough surface in the canvas ceiling. She loved her car. Her lovely red Alfa Romeo Giulietta Spider. She got it cheap and badly kept, but after pouring her love to it, it was magnificent. Gaby glanced around, and because the street was still deserted while everybody was peacefully sleeping, she pressed herself against her car, opened her arms and hugged it.

“I love you,” Gaby whispered and pressed her lips gently to the cold surface of her Spider. Smiling she pushed herself away and stepped in. She stroked the black leather interior slowly, like there was no rush. Finally Gaby pushed the key in and the Spider growled alive. She drove slowly so that the neighbours wouldn’t wake up. A few roads further she changed to a new gear and let her car run the streets. Gaby drove out of the city and raced happily when dirt road started under her Spider. She let it slide into the curves.

“Good girl,” Gaby praised the car and sped on. Closer to the factory she stopped to look the map. Now where would those two go after escaping the factory, Gaby pondered. She assumed they would be heading east, but not towards the main road. It would be too obvious. No, they would head to the smaller roads nearby, making their way to civilization, covered by the forest. Gaby turned her Spider towards the area where she hoped to find her stupid boys. She turned the head lights off, there was enough moonlight to see by and stay in the road, but now she didn’t pull so much attention.

Somewhere in a small dirt road she stopped again. She checked the map to see where she actually was. Then she stepped out of to the car. She didn’t close the door all the way, because of the noise and walked few steps along the road. The problem was that she didn’t know if she was thinking like Napoleon and Illya. And if she was, was she still in a right place or at the right time? She didn’t want to attract too much attention, but she needed to do something to signal that she was there. Maybe they could find her. Then Gaby got an idea. She climbed back to her car, close the door gently and turn it on. She kept the lights out but opened the radio. She flipped through the stations in search of music she would like to dance to. Finally she founded a song that made her leg tap. This was good. It was music she would dance to in a hotel room, while Illya would get annoyed. It was perfect. She turned the volume up higher and rolled the windows open. Then she took her gun out of the glovebox and the apple out of her pocket. Now she would have to only wait.

It took almost twenty minutes before something happened. Gaby heard a branch breaking in the woods. She grabbed her gun and turned the music off. Gaby stepped out of the car and glanced at the forest around her. There were three choices; it could be someone who didn’t mind that she could hear them coming; there was somebody who just couldn’t move silently; or there was an animal of some sort.

Gaby hoped that it wouldn’t be an animal. She had really liked the juggling bear but she didn’t want to meet it here in the dark. And someone who couldn’t move quietly wasn’t a problem either. She could handle that.

A new snap made Gaby turn around and pointing her gun in the dark woods. She could see someone moving.

”We could hear the music and Peril immediately didn’t like it,” Napoleon said as he was stepping over small bush. “So I knew it had to be you.”

Gaby huffed and lowered her gun.

“So good to see you,” Napoleon said as he got to the road.

“Waverly called,” Gaby told. “Apparently you have been causing some trouble and gray hair to him.”

“It’s good to know we can keep Waverly in his toes,” Napoleon said, smiling.

Illya stepped onto the road and just nodded in Gaby’s direction.

“Get in the car, I’m freezing,” Gaby said and stepped in. She rolled her window up and rubbed her hands against each other. Solo climbed to back seat and Illya sat next to Gaby in front. He looked bigger than usual in Gaby’s compact car.

She started the engine on and drove slowly and quietly, head lights still turned off. For a few kilometers they drove in silence. Then Gaby turned the lights on and sped up. It was like permission to start to talk and move. Solo turned sideways in the back seat and Illya pushed his seat as far back as it would go to get more room for his legs.

“Your car is small,” Illya said.

Gaby glanced at him quickly. “It’s just the right size, thank you.”

“To you,” Illya said. “To others, too small.”

Gaby hit the brakes and the Spider stopped, screeching. She turned to Illya and Napoleon and lifted her index finder up to make a point. “Let’s get this straight. There will be no saying my car is too small or wrong shaped or anything, there will be no mocking of the car, no breaking the car, no making me break my car,” Gaby pointed this to Napoleon who was smart enough to make a little apologetic expression. “You are here because of my good grace. If you don’t like the rules, you can stay here and walk. I have no trouble telling Waverly that I was forced to leave you behind because there was a problem. And we all know I’m his favorite, so there will be no doubt that he would believe me,” Gaby stopped to inhale. “Is this clear?”

“I’m sorry,” Napoleon said politely. ”We are grateful to you and your car.”

“Illya?” Gaby asked.

“Yes,” he said.

Gaby changed the gear and they were off again. The Spider speeded away from the forest and towards to London.

“Where are we going?” Solo asked when they were driving along sleepy streets.

“My place,” Gaby said. “I promised Waverly I would take you in. He is contacting me tomorrow.”

She parked the car and hurried Illya and Napoleon inside. She didn’t want the neighbors to see them. She didn’t want to get a reputation as the girl whose house was full of male callers.

“I would say to be as you would at home,” Gaby sighed when the door closed after them, “But I can just imagine what you do in your homes, so please do try to act nice.”

Napoleon crashed on Gaby’s couch and looked around. “It looks like you, here.”

“It that a complement?” Gaby asked.

“Of course,” Napoleon assured.

Gaby smiled back and then glanced at Illya. He was standing still, looking around, but he didn’t say anything. Gaby couldn’t read his face. She couldn’t tell if he hated it or liked it or something between.

To Illya, Gaby’s apartment was like her. He could smell her there and see her there. It wasn’t big, but there was everything necessary; living-room with a comfortable looking blue-gray couch, coffee table made of teak, small television, record player in a narrow table by the window, bookcase, two different kinds of armchair, footstool and some colourful pillows. The carpet was soft, there were melted candles in a saucer on the coffee table and a used cup. He could see a round table in the open kitchen, a sink full of dirty dishes and a very ill looking plant on the windowsill. There was a door behind him, most probably a bedroom and a door near the front door, probably bathroom. Illya would like to peek both of them. There was a warm and cozy atmosphere in the apartment. He could see Gaby there, playing records and pouring herself a drink, flipping through a magazine on a couch, her legs lifted on the coffee table, standing in the kitchen her hands on her hips, looking at the dying plant and wondering why it didn’t like her. She was there in the morning, her hair all messy, making coffee in her pajamas and in the evening taking her clothes off before a bath.

Illya’s face tightened and he changed his posture. Maybe it wasn’t appropriate to think Gaby taking her clothes off.

“See there, Peril loves it,” Napoleon said.

“Really?” Gaby asked. She wasn’t so sure.

”It is small,” he said. Illya didn’t mean anything bad by it. It was just a more proper thing to say than that it made him think of her getting ready for a bath or picking a dress from a wardrobe in just her underwear.

Gaby rolled her eyes and Napoleon smirked his colleague’s way to impress his feelings.

“Are you wearing pajamas?” Illya noticed suddenly.

Gaby looked down. “Yes,” she said and shrugged her shoulders. ”Waverly called at two am, where did you think I would be at that time?”

Napoleon had a few suggestions. But he was tired and it was quite nice to be there, and everything he would say just would make Illya weirdly jealous.

“I get dragged up in the middle of sleep and you have not slept at all, so maybe we should go to bed,” Gaby suggested.

“I second that,” Napoleon said. “I will take the couch.”

Gaby knew Napoleon would do that. He liked to push her and Illya together for some reason.

“I will sleep on the floor,” Illya said.

“Don’t be stupid,” Gaby said even though some part of her was just fine to let Illya sleep in the floor. “You fitted the bed just fine.”

“Floor is enough,” Illya reassured.

“I am not going to let you sleep in the floor,” Gaby said firmly. “We both fit in just fine.”

“You are not going to win that fight,” Napoleon smirked and Illya’s brows frowned.

Gaby picked up chair in the kitchen and carried it to the hall. She climbed on to it and opened the cabinet above the wardrobe. She grabbed a gray blanket and tried to yank it out. It didn’t move so Gaby pulled harder. The blanket gave in and Gaby lost her balance. For a spit second she knew she was going to fall. But then Ilya’s hand stopped her and restored her balance.

“Thanks,” Gaby said and handed the blanket to Illya. Then she yanked two pillows and climbed down

Solo made himself drink from the bottles next to Gaby’s record player and Gaby made the bed on the couch. She then slipped into her bedroom. Quickly she picked a pile of dirty clothes off the green armchair and dropped them behind it. Then she opened the cabinet on her bed side table and pushed all the dirty cups in there to hide. She didn’t know what kind of a place Illya called home, but she was quite sure that there weren’t dirty cups everywhere and dying plants.

Illya followed Gaby. The bed looked like Gaby just got up there, yawning and probably annoyed.

“Which side?” Gaby asked her hands in her hips.

“What?”

“Which side do you sleep?” Gaby asked.

“It does not matter,” Illya said.

Gaby nodded. “Then you can be in the window side. If someone breaks in, you can protect me.”

“Are you expecting burglars?” Illya asked quite amused.

“No, but you can never know,” Gaby said. She crawled back into the bed she had been raised from more than three hours ago.

Illya removed his jacked and put it in a chair. He sat on the side of the bed a little while before lying next to Gaby.

Gaby covered herself in her blanket. She was a little nervous, and in her mind the blanket was protecting her.

Illya wiggled himself a bit. There was something weird about the bed. “Your bed,” he started.

“What about it?” Gaby asked. ”Can I guess? Is it too small? Have you even considered that maybe everything isn’t small, but just the right size, and maybe you are just too big?”

“No,” Illya said and pushed his hand under the pillow. He pulled out of there a wrench the size of a Gaby’s arm. He lifted his brows. “Why do you have a wrench in bed?”

Gabby grabber the wrench from Illya little embarrassed. “Just because,” she huffed. ”You never know when you need one.”

“Have you needed it so far?” Illya asked gently.

“No. Not yet,” Gaby confessed. “But it’s my problem. Now I don’t come to you place and sleep in your bed and then criticize if there are tools in there.”

“I do not,” Illya assured.

“But if there were, I wouldn’t point that out,” Gaby said, only because she wanted the final say and her eyelids were already closing.

“Are you going to come to sleep in my bed?” Illya asked in the dark.

“What are you talking about?” Gaby muttered. She was so tired. She just wanted to sleep. She turned on her side toward Illya and yanked the wrench underneath her. Gaby pressed it against her chest like a child would do with her favored teddy bear. “Do you think bears can juggle?” she muttered.

Illya smiled to her a bit. ”I do not think that. Why do you ask?”

“It would be nice,” Gaby sighed.

“I can juggle,” Illya confessed quietly.

Gaby made a noise. It may have been a word or even a whole sentence, but it remained just a little funny nonsense as she fell asleep, holding her wrench, Illya smiling at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The thing is Alfa Romeo Giulietta Spider is actually a two-seater. So there really isn’t any room to three people. But I decided to ignore that and just make up a new model of the Spider, with a back seat. Because I really wanted Gaby to have that car. So there, BUFF, is coupe with back seats, one of its kind.


	2. Raisins and crackers

When Gaby woke up she was sure she smelled coffee. How could that be? Had she started to do housework in her sleep? Then she heard people talking and remembered that she wasn’t alone. She crawled out of bed and walked to the kitchen. Napoleon was sitting by the table, reading her newspaper and drinking coffee. Illya leaned against the sink, cup in his hand.

“Morning,” Napoleon said.

“Morning,” Gaby answered.

“Would you like some coffee?” Illya asked.

”Yes please,” Gaby said. It was actually quite nice that there was coffee waiting ready when she awoke.

“And your friend?” Illya asked and poured coffee in blue cup. “Will he want coffee?”

Gaby crinkled her brows and glanced at her sides. ”What?”

Illya pointed the wrench that Gaby was still holding in her hand.

Gaby huffed in embarrassment.

Illya offered her a coffee cup and his other hand for the wrench. Gaby switched the wrench for the cup. Someone had made good coffee. Better than she ever did.

”Who made this?” Gaby asked like she was making a conversation not like she really did care.

“Peril,” Napoleon said and folded the newspaper. “And I promised to make the breakfast when you woke up.”

Gaby stood in middle of her kitchen and felt like a bad hostess. “What do you need?” She asked. ”Because I think the frying pan is dirty and –“

“All taken care of,” Napoleon assured.

When Illya sat down, Napoleon pointed to him behind his back. Gaby felt like she was on the way, so she sat down too.

“You really didn’t have to do the dishes,” Gaby said.

“It was no trouble,” Illya said.

When they ate omelettes at the table, Gaby noticed that this was the first time that she had had company. She had lived there just six months, but still, suddenly she had two visitors. Two visitors who were making coffee, cooking breakfast and washing her dishes. Nice actually. Everybody ate in silence. The wrench was on the table. The phone rang and Gaby stood up to answer.

“Can I speak to Alice, please,” a voice asked.

“I’m sorry,” Gaby said. “There is no one living there by that name.”

”I must have a wrong number. So sorry,” the voice said.

“It’s ok,” Gaby answered and ended the call. “I’m going to step out,” she hollered to Illya and Napoleon. She yanked off her pajamas, pulled a bra and gray trousers off the pile behind the armchair and a green jumper from the bench next to her dressing table. Then shoes, red coat, scarf and keys.

The wind was as brisk as at night but the sun was shining. The last of her morning tiredness disappeared when she inhaled the cold air. Gaby walked fast, her hands deep in her coat pockets. She stepped into the phone booth and the phone rang almost immediately.

“Autumn is late this year,” a woman’s voice said on the phone.

“It doesn’t matter because I like summer,” Gaby said.

A rattle and a few clicks and Waverly’s voice said her ear: “I believe everything went just swell. Your tracker returned home and you didn’t contact us. So I am assuming you have Solo and Kuryakin.”

“Yes, they are with me,” Gaby confirmed. “Everything went well.”

“Now I hate to ask you this, but would it be at all possible to them to stay there… a while?”

“How long is a while?” Gaby asked.

“Two nights,” Waverly said. “No longer, I promise.”

“Why?” Gaby kept on asking. ”Can’t they stay somewhere else? My apartment isn’t that big. And they are.”

“Yes I understand,” Waverly assured. ”But we don’t yet know if you were followed, and if so, it’s better for them to just stay hidden for a few days. You, of course, can come and go as you please. Just continue as normal, go for a ride in that dandy car of yours and say hello to the neighbors.”

“How do you know I say hello to my neighbors?” Gaby asked.

“Because nice people do that, and you are a nice person,” Waverly said. ”They also do as their bosses tell them to do because that’s how they gain more days off.”

Gaby huffed at Waverly, but was smiling, “Fine.”

“Excellent. I have arranged some supplies so things there go smoothly. Thirty minutes, at Bill’s.”

“Yes,” Gaby promised and ended the call. She stepped out and managed to stop a taxi. In thirty minutes time she was standing in Leicester Square, watching the statue of William Shakespeare.

A man with a suitcase stopped right next to her. “Autumn is late-“

“Yeah yeah,” Gaby sighed impatiently. Too many times, the same code in the same day. She was waiting for a new day and a new code. “It doesn’t matter because I like summer.”

The young man looked confused, but left the suitcase anyway and walked away. Gaby lifted the brown leather case and took a taxi home.

Napoleon and Illya weren’t any happier at Waverly’s news.

“Two more nights?” Napoleon asked about third time. ”This is ridiculous.”

“Well I know that,” Gaby huffed. “But to be honest, it’s your own fault. Now I’m going to buy some food, because there isn’t any. And after that I’m going to take a nice bath. Proceed accordingly. Just remember, that when I come back, I am not waiting. If there’s somebody in the bathroom, I will break in the door and drown him in the bathtub. Is that clear?”

“You get your bath, don’t worry,” Napoleon said.

When Gaby returned with groceries, bathroom was empty. Somebody had already made it all steamy and warm and even the tub was filling up for her. Gaby pondered if she should thank the one who had made the preparations, but then she decided to leave it. She just handed the grocery bags to Napoleon, poured a large vodka and locked herself in the bathroom. She dumped her clothes in the laundry basket and sank into the warm water. It was just the right temperature. She turned off the tap and wished she had remembered to put some music on. When soft jazz started to play less than a minute later, Gaby believed momentarily that she could control things with her mind. Gaby sipped her drink and closed her eyes. She held her breath and slid under water. The music was just an eerie whisper.

Gaby got out only when her fingers and toes were all wrinkly. She wrapped herself in bold, flower-patterned bathrobe, which had been too ugly and too irresistible to leave in the shop. She dressed in clean clothes and ruffled her still damp hair. In the living room was only Illya. He was wearing a gray shirt and Gaby was sure that earlier it had been black. Apparently Waverly’s suitcase contained clothes like Gaby had imagined.

“Did you use the bathroom already?” Gaby asked.

Illya nodded. ”Yes. Hope I did not run your bath too hot.”

“No, just right,” Gaby said.

“Cowboy went in,” Illya told. “Apparently he is going to stay at least tomorrow.”

Gaby smiled. She sat at the couch and lifted her legs up. Illya was watching her books. Gaby found it odd, that somebody as grumpy and serious as Illya could also be so thoughtful and kind.

“You collection is very inadequate,” Illya said.

Gaby rolled her eyes. Just as she had thought that Illya was almost like a real boy.

“You should read classics,” Illya told. “I can recommend a few.”

“It’s not necessary right now,” Gaby said. “I haven’t been reading much lately.”

“What have you done then?” Illya asked and manages to make it sound like it was just a question, not like he really wanted to know.

“I like the movies,” Gaby told. “I go there often.”

Illya huffed. ”American lies,” he judged. ”They tell nothing of reality.”

“They’re not supposed to be about reality,” Gaby laughed when Illya’s patriotism lifted his head. “They are supposed to be entertaining and fun. When was the last time when you had fun?”

“I have fun,” Illya said.

“When?” Gaby asked.

Illya shrugged his shoulders. ”It was not so long ago.”

“What do you consider fun?” Gaby asked.

“Chess,” Illya said. ”I enjoy that. I like good books and classical music.”

“But is it fun?” Gaby asked.

“It is pleasurable,” Illya said.

“That’s not the same,” Gaby pointed out. “Let’s do something fun now.”

“What can we do here?” Illya asked. “Do you have chessboard?”

“Juggle for me,” Gaby said.

Illya turned away from the books. “Juggle?”

“Didn’t you say last night that you can juggle, or was I just dreaming?” Gaby asked.

“Yes,” Illya said and wondered, did Gaby often dream about him.

“So juggle for me,” Gaby asked. “Like a bear.”

Illya couldn’t help smiling. The feeling raised from somewhere deep and almost made him laugh. “You do not have any balls.”

Gaby jumped up from the couch and disappeared in the kitchen. She returned with three red apples. She threw the apples to Illya one by one. “Do your best, grizzly.”

Illya looked the apples. Gaby’s cheeks were equally red. He straightened his back and threw the first apple up.

Gaby hugged her legs it the couch and stared Illya. She thought that juggling was almost magical. She didn’t understand what the rhythm was or how the apples stayed so easily on air. And anybody who could do that was in Gaby’s mind a wizard.

“Is this enough?” Illya asked and watched the apples.

“No,” Gaby laughs. “Don’t stop. That’s amazing. How can you do that? I can never manage to make it work.”

Illya catch the apples and then raised his brows proudly and very Napoleon-like. “It is all in the wrists.”

Gaby stepped away from the couch and went to Illya. She grabbed his wrists and held them. She turned them around and let the seconds tick away. She held Illya’s wrists longer than it was necessary, but he didn’t mind.

“They look ordinary to me,” Gaby gave her judgement and let go.

“Was that fun then?” Illya asked.

Gaby shrugged her shoulders and grinned a bit. “A bit. You should try more next time.”

Illya took the apples back the kitchen. He wondered how many more times he would have to juggle in the next few days. Not that he minded, he liked to make Gaby happy.

Eventually everything went a lot better than Gaby was thinking. Napoleon didn’t stay in the bath until the next day; he emerged from the bathroom after a hour. Gaby picked records to listen to, Illya judged them, as she was expecting, and Napoleon cooked dinner later. In the evening even Illya took a glass of scotch and they were all still friends when they went to bed.

Gaby found her wrench under the pillow even when she remembered leaving it in the kitchen. For some reason all the nice things Illya had done, this was the most touching and it made Gaby almost too emotional.

Next morning Gaby woke up as Illya was doing push-ups. Gaby crawled to the other end of the bed and made sure that was what Illya was doing. He didn’t have a shirt on, and Gaby could see the scars on his back.

“Morning,” she muttered. “How long have you been doing that?”

“Cорок пять, сорок шесть, сорок семь,” Illya counted aloud for a while.

Gaby rolled onto her back and tasted the word in her mouth. Cорок пять, forty something, forty-five. Illya had already done 45 push-ups before she woke up. Gaby got up and walked to the bathroom. Napoleon was buttoning his shirt in front of a mirror.

“Omelette?” He asked.

“Yes, please,” Gaby yawned and disappeared into the bathroom. She wasn’t a morning person. Apparently Illya and Napoleon were. It annoyed Gaby a bit. Gaby liked to sleep in if there was a chance and stay up late. For some reason she was always most productive after the sun set.

Last night’s relaxed atmosphere had somehow vanished during the night. Napoleon was smirking at everything and Illya didn’t say anything at all. Gaby was ready to change the good coffee to her own not so good, if it meant drinking it in solitude. Then she remembered that she really didn’t have to stay in.

So Gaby put her shoes on, grabbed her jacket and said she was going out. “I think we all could use some alone time. So I’m going for a walk and you two can decide which rooms you are going to go. See you in few hours.” She wrapped a scarf around her neck and flew out of the door like a bird to freedom.

Illya and Napoleon ogled each other for a while. Then Napoleon stood up. “I’m going to make some calls,” then he disappeared into Gaby’s bedroom and pulled the door closed behind him. Illya could hear the bed squeak when Cowboy laid there and then a quiet chime as the phone was lifted.

Gaby walked to her car. She really didn’t want to go for a walk, she wanted to drive. She stopped beside the Spider and touched the side mirror gently with her fingertips.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?” She asked softly and opened the door. For a while Gaby stroked the leather interior, she slid her hands along the steering wheel and just inhaled the leather smell with her eyes closed. Finally she pushed the key into the lock and her Spider grunted alive.

“You like that, huh?” Gaby whispered and winked at the control panel. She let the car build up rounds. “Oh I know what you like.” Gaby could only imagine what kind of ridicule she would have to endure if Illya and Napoleon ever found out what she did in her car.

Gaby pressed the gas petal down and the Spider rushed ahead. She stopped at the gas station to refuel. She washed the windshield and other windows, slowly and carefully. The she turned the Spider towards the north and drove on, away from the city to the quiet country roads. She let the Spider use all the power she had, sliding on curves and speeding on. Gaby loved driving. It was a time where she was in complete control of things. No one else could say what to do or how to do it. So she couldn’t make an omelette or juggle, but she could drive. Gaby never said it out loud, but she knew she was the best of them when it came to driving. Napoleon was skilful, but too cautious for Gaby’s liking. Illya on the other hand was a very aggressive driver and compensated that way for his possible lack of agility. But Gaby was the one who knew exactly what to do to get the most out of a car. She was fast and skilful and fearless. And somewhere deep inside her she knew that the boys knew it too. They knew she was the best, they just didn’t want to confess it and that made Gaby smile.

When she pulled over on her street, the Spider was dusty and hot. “Good girl,” Gaby praised it and stroked the stearing wheel.

In her living room she again only found Illya. He was reading his legs lifted on the couch. The bedroom door was closed and Gaby could hear faint talking.

“Is there someone with him?” She asked.

“Cowboy is talking on the phone,” Illya said and glanced at his father’s watch. “Almost three hours now.”

“Apparently he is going to pay my phone bill,” Gaby muttered and went to the kitchen. On a normal day off, she would turn the television on. She would make a cup of coffee or maybe a hot chocolate and eat crackers on the couch and everything would be covered with crumbs. But now she couldn’t do that. She could put some music on, but she felt very fondly towards Illya because he had apparently washed the breakfast dishes and she didn’t want to bother him with her music. Gaby lifted her hands on her hips and stared at the dying plant on the windowsill. She couldn’t figure out why it hated her so much.

“Did you go for a ride?” Illya asked by the door and made Gaby jump.

“How did you know?” She asked.

“Your car, it makes a very noticeable sound,” Illya told. “Spider?”

Gaby nodded. ”My baby.”

Illya almost smiled.

“Could you make coffee?” Gaby asked. ”Yours is much better than mine.”

Illya nodded. He had that soft look in his face he had every time he could do something to make Gaby happy. He started making the coffee and Gaby sat on the counter and looked at him.

“There really isn’t much for you to do here,” Gaby said when Illya took some cups from the cupboard.

“We can manage,” Illya said. “If you had a chessboard, we could play.”

“I don’t know how,” Gaby said.

“Well I could have taught you,” Illya told her.

Gaby smiled a bit. Maybe it would have been nice. She reached the cupboards behind her to grab the crackers. Then she had an idea.

“You can teach me,” Gaby said smiling. ”You bring the coffee, I make the chessboard.”

Illya watched Gaby reach for more crackers and then she went and spread them over the living room teak table.

“How many squares there are in chessboards?” Gaby asked. “On one side?”

“Eight,” Illya said and walk over with the coffee cups.

Gaby arranged the crackers in the table. “Wheat crackers are black,” she explained. “And Jacob’s crackers are white.”

Illya couldn’t help smiling while Gaby built her crackerchess.

“There,” Gaby sighed. “Now the pieces.” She returned to kitchen and was clearly very excited.

Finally Illya could teach chess to Gaby. The black pawns were raisins, white ones grapes, two big plastic rings were the kings, Gaby´s fake engagement ring with the black pearl was one of the queens, a simple gold one the other, two pair of plastic earrings were the knights, the bishops were coins and the rooks were bottle caps from Gaby’s little bar by the record player.

Gaby was surprised how patient a teacher Illya was. He told her same things many time without seeming frustrated. In Illya’s mind the only problem were the pieces.

“So now my raisin can eat your grape?” Gaby confirmed before making her move.

“Let’s say that your pawn can eat my pawn. Please try to think of them as real pieces,” He asked. “It is much easier when we play next time, if I do not have to explain everything again because you can think only in raisins.”

Gaby smiled at him and moved a raisin to a wheat cracker. “This is nice,” she confessed.

“That´s because you keep eating your pawns,” Illya said and a little smile twitched his mouth.

Gaby crinkled her nose. Illya was right, she was eating her pawns.

“What is that?” Napoleon asked. His black hair was messy from lying on the bed. “A snack?”

“It’s a chessboard,” Gaby said. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Napoleon smirked. To him it was just some crackers on a table. ”Should we eat it or make some real food?”


	3. Better coffee

Gaby was adamant; she wanted to turn on the television. It was, after all, Monday. She watched Double Your Money every Monday, whenever she was in.

“It’s not my fault that you two are here, so I shouldn’t have to suffer because of it. I want to watch Double Your Money,” Gaby demanded. “This is your final evening - you will just have to survive.”

Illya huffed, but stopped fighting back.

Gaby turned the television on as Napoleon poured more red wine in her glass. When the show started and Gaby sang along with the theme song ( _double your money and try to get rich, double your money, without any hitch, double your money, it’s your lucky day, double your money and take it away!_ ), Napoleon laughed more at Illya’s expression than Gaby’s childlike happiness.

“This is entertaining?” Illya asked, arms crossed on his chest. “They are just asking questions.”

“It’s a quiz,” Gaby said.

“We could ask each other questions,” Illya said. “Same thing.”

“But they can win money if they answer correctly,” Gaby explained. “It’s fun.”

“This must be American invention,” Illya huffed.

“Probably is,” Gaby agreed.

They watched in silence for a few moments, until Illya broke it. “He is wrong,” he said. “It is Danube.”

Gaby and Napoleon waited for the presenter to announce that the contestant’s guess was incorrect and the real answer was Danube.

“I knew it,” Illya said, very self-satisfied. Gaby wasn’t sure if he was more pleased by the fact that he had answered correctly, or that someone else had answered wrong.

“Well then, tell me this,” Gaby said, “what’s the horsepower of an Alfa Romeo Giulietta Spider?”

Illya frowned. He didn’t know. But he tried to go around it. “You said they win money - what is in it for me?”

“You,” Gaby said and looked around. She grabbed a cracker off the coffee table and lifted it between her fingers. “Can win a cracker.”

“One cracker is not very much,” Illya criticized.

“I don’t think you know the answer,” Napoleon said. To Gaby, he offered, “Is it eighty?”

“Correct,” Gaby smiled and threw the cracker to Napoleon. She grabbed a new one and looked at Illya. “Illya Kuryakin, I have a question for you and it’s worth one graham cracker.”

Napoleon laughed and Illya clenched his teeth together.

“How many pairs of socks do I have?” Gaby asked.

Illya huffed. “No one can know that.”

“I know,” Gaby pointed out. “But fine, I will ask something easier. What colour was Wellington’s white horse?”

Illya frowned. “White, of course,” he muttered.

“Good boy,” Gaby teased. “You win a cracker.”

Illya didn’t take the cracker, so Gaby waved it in front of his face. When that didn’t help, she poked him in the cheek with it. Finally Illya grabbed the stupid cracker just so she would stop.

Napoleon grabbed himself a cracker. “Right, my turn. In what country was I stabbed for the first time?”

“Germany,” Gaby guessed.

“America,” Illya muttered. He liked to think that Cowboy had been stabbed even before he joined the army.

“Wrong and wrong,” Napoleon said and sniffed his wine. “It’s in Europe.”

“Hungary,” Gaby said. “Poland.”

“Correct.” Napoleon toasted her and threw the cracker.

“Lucky guess,” Illya huffed.

“You are just jealous of my cracker,” Gaby said, smiling.

Illya crossed his hands over his chest again. He didn’t like this game. It was stupid and he wanted to win.

“What did I collect when I was a little?” Napoleon asked.

“Hah,” Illya said, “stamps.”

Napoleon threw the cracker to Illya.

“How did you know?” Gaby asked.

“He still looks at them,” Illya told her. “When he has a letter, he always checks the stamp first.”

“Okay, what was my hobby when I was a little?” Gaby asked.

“You repaired cars,” Illya said, even though he didn’t think the answer was that obvious.

“No. Well yes, but there was something else, too,” Gaby explained.

“You fought with the neighbors kids?” Napoleon suggested. “Or you climbed trees.”

“Of course,” Gaby smiled. ”But those are not hobbies.”

“You play some instrument?” Illya said, quite unsure.

“No, but that’s closer,” Gaby said.

“So you didn’t play anything, but that’s closer so I’m guessing it has something to do with music,” Napoleon pondered, scratching his jaw. “You danced.”

“Yes, but what?” Gaby asked.

”Polka,” Illya said.

“Polka?” Gaby laughed. “Why on earth would you think that?”

“You are German,” Illya said. “Germans, polka.”

“Ballet,” Napoleon said, before Gaby could ask more about Illya’s polka idea.

“Yes,” Gaby confessed.

“You dance ballet?” Illya asked.

“Yes, but it was a long time ago,” Gaby told. “So don’t worry, I’m not going to try to twirl or anything.”

Napoleon smiled in his armchair. “I think the situation is quite the opposite. He’s Russian. I’m sure Peril would love to see you twirl.”

Gaby looked Illya. He seemed a bit awkward, like he was going to blush. Gaby assumed she was imagining it. For a moment, she was going to tease Illya a bit with this ballet thing, but then something made her change her mind. She really didn’t want to tease him now.

“Does anybody want more wine?” Gaby asked, to break the growing silence. The way Napoleon was watching her was bothering Gaby. His head was tilted, his lips quirked in this confident and knowing grin, like he knew something. Gaby really didn’t care what Napoleon thought he knew, and now was not the time to find out.

No one wanted wine, but Gaby stood up from the couch anyway. She went to kitchen and drank a glass of water.

“I am going to bed,” Illya said at the door, startling Gaby.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll be in to join you soon.” She wasn’t quite sure why she said that. For some reason the sentence just came out like she had been saying it for years. Gaby filled her glass again but didn’t drink.

“You must be pleased to be rid of us tomorrow,” Napoleon said, startling her too. Illya had gone, and Napoleon had taken his place, all without her notice.

“I’m going to be pleased that there aren’t any more spies in my home,” she huffed. “Everyone moves so quietly.”

“Maybe I did it on purpose,” Napoleon confessed, moving to the table and sitting down. “But still, it should be nice to have your own peace back.”

“Of course,” Gaby said. “But it’s not like this has been that hard. It’s not the first time we’ve all spent time together in the same place.”

“No, but I think this is the smallest space,” Napoleon countered. “And this time, nobody could leave.”

“I could,” Gaby reminded him.

”And yet you didn’t”, Napoleon said, grinning that knowing grin again. “You could spend all day somewhere else. You could even have gone to a hotel for a night, ordered your fill of desserts from room service.”

“It’s my home,” Gaby said.

“Do you think we would just trash the place if you weren’t here?” Napoleon laughed.

“Probably not,” Gaby said. ”But it was still better to watch you.”

Napoleon shook his head and stood up. “No. You wanted to be here, spend time with us, play chess and argue about quiz shows.”

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” Gaby said, bracing her hands on her hips.

“Yes you do,” Napoleon smirked. “Go on and tell yourself otherwise if it helps. But some point, you do eventually have to deal with it.”

“You’re not making any sense,” Gaby smiled. “Too much wine?”

“I doubt it,” Napoleon said.

“I’m going to bed,” Gaby said with finality. “Good night.”

“This has been quite hard on Peril, you know,” Napoleon said. “He’s not good with this much human contact at a time, and yet he’s been acting very nicely. He hasn’t even broken anything. So be nice, throw the man a bone, and twirl him a bit.”

Gaby rolled her eyes at Napoleon’s grin and left him in the kitchen. In the bedroom, she changed quickly into her pajamas while Illya politely looked away. She crawled into bed beside him and turned the lamp off, then pushed her hand under the pillow.

“It is there,” Illya said. Gaby heard the smile in his voice.

“Good,” Gaby sighed. “I like to be prepared.”

“Ballerina and mechanic,” Illya said, slowly and surprisingly respectfully. “Unusual combination.”

“Unusual life,” Gaby replied.

“Did you dance long?” Illya asked.

“Napoleon was right,” Gaby smiled. “You Russians do like your ballerinas.”

Illya huffed; the whole bed moved as he adjusted his position.

“Five years,” Gaby told him. “I quit when I was eleven.” She rolled over onto her back and sighed. She remembered and she felt. She hadn’t done either in a long time. “A lot happened at eleven.”

“I know what you mean,” Illya said, voice quiet in the dark.

Gaby felt a big warm tear running across her cheek and rolling down next to her ear. She took a deep breath and pushed her feelings back down. Not here. Not now. If she let herself feel everything she had been burying for years now, there would be a tidal wave of emotions. With her bad luck, it would run over Illya and open his flood gates too, and then it would just be hell on earth. Napoleon wouldn’t survive that by himself. It was safer to hold all of the feelings back and just let a few crumbs get away. Little by little, not all of the baggage at once. Gaby quickly wiped the tear away and hoped that Illya wouldn’t notice.

Of course Illya noticed. For the moment, he pushed aside his own problems and insecurities about intimacy - he just wanted to comfort Gaby. So in the safety given by the darkness, Illya took Gaby’s hand in his own and squeezed it gently.

Gaby found herself grateful for this small gesture. She leaned her head a little towards Illya, until her temple was pressed against his shoulder. Neither them said or did anything else; there were no good night wishes, no nothing. Still, both felt more comfort than they’d had in a long time.

That night, Illya slept better than he had in ages. He woke only when the phone rang and Gaby sleepily shifted beside him to pick it up.

“Hello,” she muttered into the phone. “No, no one with that name lives here. It’s okay.” Gaby ended the call and slowly got up from the bed. ”I have to go out,” she yawned.

Gaby didn’t open her pajama top’s buttons, instead just yanking the whole thing off over her head. Illya watched as the shirt revealed Gaby’s naked back, but then he looked away. He didn’t want to spy, not on her. In the corner of his eye, he could still see the motions that suggested that was Gaby fastening the band of her bra, pulling her jumper on, and removing one pair of trousers and putting on another. Then she was already out of the room.

Gaby picked up a postcard that had been placed in front of the door before entering the crisp autumn air. Still sleepy, she wrapped her red coat tightly around her and started the walk to the familiar phone booth. She looked down at the postcard in her hands. She got one every few days. The last one had been from Edinburgh; this one was from Blackpool. On the other side there was, like always, a very bad poem.

_Wind is waving the tree tops,_  
Children are running in the park,  
Tomorrow is going to be sunny,  
I’d like to go for a picnic,  
Buy some salty meat and mayonnaise,  
Everybody loves sandwiches. 

Gaby shook her head at the poem. Whoever was tasked with writing these things probably hated his job. She finally stepped into the phone booth and waited almost a minute for the call to go through.

“Tomorrow is going to be sunny,” said the women on the other end.

“I’d like to go for a picnic,” Gaby answered, and then waited again until the line was connected to Waverly.

“I do hope I didn’t wake you,” he started.

“You did,” Gaby said. She always told truth when Waverly asked that.

“Everything seems to be fine,” Waverly said. “We haven’t spotted anyone watching your home - besides us, of course - so Solo and Kuryakin are free to leave. I do hope they didn’t cause too much trouble.”

Gaby shrugged her shoulders.

“Are you shrugging your shoulders again?” Waverly asked. “You do know I can’t actually see it.”

“Sorry,” Gaby smiled into the phone. “It went just fine. No broken furniture, no broken people.”

“Excellent,” Waverly said. “I’ll send a car around to bring Solo and Kuryakin here. They can tell me all about what happened at the factory.”

“I will tell them,” Gaby promised.

“I will see you on Thursday, as usual,” Waverly said.

Gaby ended the call. She ripped the postcard to pieces and threw it in a trash can, then she walked back home. She could smell the coffee as soon as she opened the door.

The next morning, nobody woke Gaby up. The phone didn’t ring, nobody did any push-ups. She stretched out in the middle of the bed. It was nice to wake up in silence, but it was also little strange to be alone. It was funny how quickly she had become used to somebody else sleeping in her bed. Finally she crawled her way to her feet. Her hair was all tangled and her pajamas were wrinkled when she went to the kitchen. She didn’t have any more eggs. Or bread. Or anything, actually. She hadn’t remembered to go to the grocery store. Gaby grabbed the coffee pot and started to make coffee, but then she stopped. She didn’t really feel like drinking bad coffee today. So she left the pot and went instead to sit on the couch. She ate one cracker and all the rest of the pawns. Then somebody knocked her door.

“Illya,” Gaby said, upon answering. He was standing in her doorway, a brown paper bag in one hand. “I didn’t expect you. Did you forget something?”

“No,” Illya said. He hadn’t returned with that flimsy of an excuse. “I brought you some breakfast,” he said and handed the bag to Gaby. The smell of fresh bread wafted through it.

“Thank you,” Gaby said, looking back up and smiling. “I don’t actually have anything to eat.”

“I know,” Illya said.

“And you’re here just in time to make the coffee,” she added happily, and let Illya in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double Your Money was a real quiz-show. It did come out Mondays and that was its theme song.


	4. Vermeer on the wall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picture to go with the story: [New York, January](http://edenforest.tumblr.com/post/142866804550/getting-to-know-you-getting-to-know-all-about-you)

They were a sad bunch. 

Napoleon looked outside, where a blizzard was turning everything white. He leaned his forehead against the cool window. It felt nice. Illya sat nearby, at the end of a bench row. Napoleon had a small bruise in his chin, but Illya seemed to be without a scratch. They were both just tired. 

On the other end of the bench row sat Gaby, intentionally apart from them. She was angry and didn’t seem to want to talk to Napoleon or have anything at all to do with Illya. She had a bruise on her cheek bone, a split lip, and a cast on her right wrist. It was heavy and the hand it covered was hurting.

“So,” Napoleon sighed finally. “There are no more planes taking off. Nobody’s getting out of this city today—probably not tomorrow, either.”

“We should find a hotel,” Illya said.

“In weather like this, when the city is gridlocked, every room is likely already booked,” Napoleon said. “I know you don’t like it, but I think you’ll have to stay in my place.”

Illya grunted, but knew that to be true. They couldn’t stay at the airport. He glanced Gaby at the other end of the row. She should be somewhere warm; somewhere she could get some rest and maybe a drink. Gaby’s grim expression made Illya’s brows furrow too. He didn’t like to see Gaby in that state, and he didn’t like that she was so angry at him.

“Let’s go,” Napoleon decided, removing himself from the window. “Let’s try to get a taxi, and maybe find a grocery store that’s still open. Let’s go, Gaby!”

Gaby stood up stiffly, like a doll without free will. It was obvious that she was going to be angry for a while. She would do what she was asked, but intended to mope about it like a child.

Illya went to Gaby and picked her suitcase up.

“I will carry it myself,” Gaby said.

“I do not mind carrying it,” Illya said, trying to help.

“I said,” Gaby hissed between her teeth, pushing Illya away with her left hand, “I will carry it myself.”

Illya clenched his teeth together, squeezing his hands into tight fists. He wasn’t going to get mad. No, he would let Gaby act like a child, but he wouldn’t get mad.

Gaby picked up the suitcase in her left hand and dragged it behind her. It looked so difficult that Illya couldn’t watch. The suitcase was heavy and hit her hip with every step, making even walking looking hard. But Gaby was going to carry her own case, even if it killed her.

“See, we’re already having so much fun together,” Napoleon smirked.

Illya just shook his head and slowly they followed Gaby outside. They managed to get a cab and, without asking, Napoleon grabbed Gaby’s suitcase and lifted it in. Gaby didn’t make a fuss, so apparently only Illya was on her blacklist. Gaby and Illya waited in the taxi when Napoleon found a grocery store which was still open. Gaby stared out of the window; her mouth was just an angry line. Illya checked, now and then, to see if she still looked mad. She always did. Neither of them said a word until Napoleon returned, his arms full of bags.

Outside of his apartment, Napoleon gave the groceries to Illya so he could carry Gaby’s suitcase. Neither he nor Illya wanted to watch her drag the suitcase through the snow and up the stairs, and apparently Illya didn’t get to help.

“Welcome to my humble home,” Napoleon said when they reached his door, unlocking it and turning on the light. “Living room and kitchen are straight ahead, bathroom there on the left. I don’t know how you want to sleep, but there’s a guest room there and—”

“Thank you,” Gaby stopped him, then dragged her suitcase into the guest room and slammed the door closed.

“Drink?” Napoleon sighed.

“Yes,” Illya huffed.

Napoleon poured two stiff whiskeys. Then he poured a vodka for Gaby and knocked on the guest room door. The door opened just that Gaby’s hand could fit out to take the glass. Then the door shut again.

Illya thought that Cowboy’s apartment was much more muted than he had imagined. For some reason, he had expected gilded rococo furniture, huge Persian rugs, shiny chandeliers, and priceless artwork. Maybe at one point Cowboy’s apartment had looked like that, but when he was caught, they took all the things back to their real owners. Whether that was the case or not, the apartment he stood in now was quite elegant and modern. Although Illya could see few Persian rugs, there were a couple of antiques that didn’t look very common, and a painting of a woman reading a letter that Illya was sure was by Vermeer. It could just be a very skillful replica, but Illya didn’t think Napoleon was the sort of person who would have reproductions on his walls. He wondered if the previous owner of the painting missed the reading woman, or if it was one of those cases where the Third Reich had stolen some Jewish family’s art collection and then sent the family themselves to a concentration camp to die. He turned his attention instead to the dark blue couch under him; it was comfortable, which was nice, because he would sleep on it. Normally it wouldn’t be a problem for him to share a bed with Gaby, but he certainly wasn’t going to suggest that tonight.

“I’m beat,” Napoleon sighed into his glass. “Let’s find you bedding and get some sleep.”

In the bathroom, Illya stared at himself in the mirror. He had dark circles under his eyes, his cheeks were hollower than normal, and he needed to shave. He needed to shower too, but decided to leave that for the morning. On his way back to the couch, Illya stopped by the guest room and listened to see if Gaby was still awake. There was a light on, but Illya couldn’t hear anything. He opened the door quietly. Gaby was sleeping in her clothes atop the bedspread, curled up like a cat. Her painkillers were all scattered on the nightstand like she had been struggling with the bottle. Her jacket was turned inside out, caught on her cast. She hadn’t been able to get it off and was, of course, too proud to ask for help.

Illya swiped the painkillers into his palm and put them back in the bottle. He gently straightened Gaby’s sleeve and yanked the coat off of her cast. Gaby muttered something in her sleep but didn’t wake up. Illya lifted the other side of the blanket and covered Gaby, then turned the lights out. Maybe Gaby was angry with him, but he still wanted to make sure she was comfortable as she slept.

The couch that was his own makeshift bed was a little too short for him and Illya slept restlessly, dreaming about the man he had shot the previous night.

Gaby still moped at breakfast the next morning. She just poked at her scrambled eggs with her fork and was quiet. She didn’t eat, just poked. Then she went to sit in Napoleon’s study so she didn’t have to look at Illya.

“Do you think she’s going to carry on this way for long?” Napoleon asked, when Illya returned from shower.

“Yes,” Illya sighed. And he hated it.

“I’m going to talk with her,” Napoleon decided. He was good with ladies; he had a natural ability to get them on his side. But, then again, usually the ladies weren’t angry and mopey.

Gaby was sitting in a big armchair by the window, watching the blizzard outside. Her hair was down, which was unusual. She hadn’t been able to make a ponytail with just one hand.

“How are you?” Napoleon asked, moving toward her.

“My hand hurts,” Gaby said.

“Have you taken your painkillers?”

“No,” she replied. “They make me sleepy.”

He frowned. “Does that matter? You don’t have anything to do today.”

“I don’t want to be all doped up,” Gaby hissed. “So just leave it.”

Napoleon lifted his palms as a sign of peace. “You know best.”

He sat in the chair next to Gaby, only for her to immediately stand up. It was like she didn’t want him to mirror what she was doing. She walked around the room instead, sliding her fingers across his writing desk and looking at the books on the shelves.

Napoleon pondered how he was going to present his message. One wrong word could make everything worse. “You do understand that Peril didn’t have a choice?”

“Of course he had a choice,” Gaby said angrily. “Thanks to him we didn’t get anything from a two week long operation.”

“It wasn’t his fault,” Napoleon said.

“He broke my arm,” Gaby hissed.

“No, he didn’t,” Napoleon pointed out.

“He might as well have,” Gaby argued. “He’s the reason it’s broken for no reason. All of these bruises—my split lip—they’re for nothing because he shot that man. If he had just let me handle it, we would have taken him in and interrogated him. But no, Kuryakin had to kill him.”

“Really? _Kuryakin?”_ Napoleon said. “Is that what you’re calling him now?”

“It’s his name,” Gaby huffed.

“But you always say _Illya,_ very softly and sweetly,” Napoleon countered.

Gaby just rolled her eyes.

He looked at for a moment before adding, “And like I said, Illya didn’t have a choice. You couldn’t do anything in that moment; that man would have killed you.”

“I had a knife,” Gaby said.

“Yes, and a hand you couldn’t use to grab it,” Napoleon explained. “And a man who was pointing a gun at you. Illya made the right call.”

“I have two hands,” Gaby huffed, waving the left one. “This isn’t a toy. It works just as well as the right one. It can hold a knife. Look, I can touch with it, it can grab.” Gaby kept pacing, touching random objects. She snatched a small tin box from a side table and hit it against the tabletop a few times. “You see?”

Napoleon jumped up and took the box from Gaby. “Now, I won’t say your anger isn’t little bit amusing, and I won’t say it isn’t a little funny to see how much it bothers Peril, but that’s too far. This is from the 18th century. Be careful with it.”

Gaby just looked away.

“And I have to say—not only did Illya make the right decision, I would have made the same one. You couldn’t handle it by yourself.”

Gaby pushed past him, taking the seat she had abandoned and staring once more at the blizzard. Their conversation was obviously over.

Napoleon returned to the living room and grabbed a newspaper from the coffee table.

“How did it go?” Illya asked.

“Badly,” Napoleon sighed. “I’m afraid I really didn’t help your case at all. If anything, I made it worse.”

Illya’s jaw tightened.

“She thinks you were too hasty,” Napoleon explained. “She was apparently handling it just fine. She had a knife and a left hand.”

Illya stood up and went to his suitcase. He found his knife and took it out of its sheath.

“What are you doing?” Napoleon asked, watching Illya walk toward the study. “Are you going to stab her into agreeing?”

Illya stopped. “Is that really what you think I would do?”

Even Napoleon had to confess that it wasn’t likely.

Illya went into the study and placed the knife on the little table next to Gaby. She did nothing to indicate that she had even noticed another person in the room.

“Stab me,” Illya said.

Gaby huffed and continued staring.

“Stab me,” Illya said again. “Now.”

“I’m not going to stab you,” Gaby said.

“I know,” Illya said. “You know how I know? Because you are too weak.”

“What?” Gaby hissed. ”Are you really bringing me a knife and then provoking me? You know that I can’t stab you. There would be problems.”

“We all know that you are Waverly’s favorite,” Illya said. “He would understand.”

Gaby shook her head angrily.

Napoleon appeared in the doorway to the living room. “What are you doing?” he asked, his brows furrowed.

“Illya is picking a fight,” Gaby said.

“No. I just want to see you try to stab me,” Illya explained.

“Well, don’t bleed on the carpet,” Napoleon said. “It’s Persian.”

“Stab me!”

“No!”

“Because you cannot do it. You are weak and would not survive a day without us,” Illya huffed.

Gaby grabbed the knife from the table and charged toward Illya. He managed to dodge out of the way, and Gaby whirled to make another attempt.

“Are you even trying?” Illya mocked. “That is sad.”

Gaby tried again to slash at him. She went too close this time, into his range. Illya grabbed her hand and twisted it until Gaby had to drop the knife. Then he stepped away.

“Pick it up,” Illya commanded. “Try.”

Gaby scooped up the knife and charged again. She tried to create a diversion with her right hand, but the cast was heavy and she couldn’t manage to hit Illya. All the fast movement had furthered weakened her already-tired body and when Illya pushed her, she fell back onto the carpet.

“Fight!” Illya yelled at her.

“I can’t!” Gaby cried. “You were right. Are you happy? I can’t do it with my left hand.”

Illya knelt down in front of Gaby and picked her up by grabbing her arms so hard she made a cry. “If you do not fight, you will die. Somebody is pointing a gun at your head; you have a knife and left hand. Use it!” Illya stood and let Gaby get up by herself.

She tried to stab him again, but again didn’t connect.

“Do not use it like your right hand,” Illya advised. “You must mirror your moves.”

Gaby charged toward Illya, who twisted the knife out her hand again and pushed her back to the floor. Gaby grabbed the knife and stood up, her whole body trembling.

“Do not think of it as your left hand,” Illya said. “It is just a hand. You have two hands; if one is not working, you must trust the other one. It is all you have! Fight!”

Gaby was panting from exhaustion. She charged one last time. Illya took her knife and let her fall.

“I think that’s enough,” Napoleon said, stepping closer.

Illya lifted his hand at Napoleon. He would handle this. He almost lifted Gaby by her shoulders to sit in the armchair.

“I can’t do it,” Gaby huffed, voice filled with so much anger and disappointment. She was fighting against tears.

Illya knelt in front of her so that their faces were the same height. He took Gaby’s left wrist in his hand. “You had one hand and a knife. Was it enough? Would you survive?”

“No,” Gaby whispered.

“It is because of this, your left hand. It is weak, yes? You have not trained it enough,” Illya explained. “You use it like a left hand, like it is weaker. You do not trust that it can be as strong as the right one. That is true—for now, at least. You only have to train it more. First with knife and then with gun.”

“And you are saying that you can shoot equally well with both hands?” Gaby huffed.

“Yes,” Illya said. “So does Cowboy, I think. But it did not happen in just one second when somebody was holding a gun to my face. It took time.”

Gaby couldn’t look at Illya’s face. He was so serious and right.

“I had no other choice,” Illya said. He was still holding Gaby’s left wrist. “Somebody was going to shoot, him or me. We may have lost two weeks of preparations, this is true. He hit you and he broke your arm and we did not get any information out of him. But you are alive, yes?”

Gaby was still struggling against tears.

“You are not even angry at me. You are angry because you could not handle it by yourself and we see it.”

“I should be able to handle that sort of thing by myself, just like you,” Gaby hissed.

“We have years of experience under our belts,” Napoleon said. “You have barely one.”

“And I think the point is to be a team,” Illya said. “That why there are three of us.”

Gaby’s chin and bottom lip were shaking.

“This,” Illya shook Gaby’s limp left wrist. “It will get stronger,” he promised. His voice softened, becoming almost gentle. “Until then, you just have to accept that sometimes I am going to help you. Yes?”

Gaby nodded.

“I’ll bring you some water,” Napoleon said, and left them by themselves. Sometimes he did that, just to see if this was the point that friendship would become something else.

“I am sorry,” Illya said, after a moment. “I must have hurt you.”

“It’s okay,” Gaby assured him. “You had a point to make.” She may have gained a few more bruises, but the real problem was her broken arm, which was—after so much movement—throbbing with such hot pain that it felt like it was on fire.

“Have you taken your painkillers?” Illya asked.

Gaby shook her head. “They make me sleepy.”

“Do you have anything important to do in the middle of a blizzard?” Illya asked, giving her a little smile.

“No,” Gaby whispered.

“Well then. You are going to take your pills and I am going to make you a sandwich. You did not eat your breakfast, you must be hungry,” Illya told her.

Gaby just nodded. She couldn’t speak, because Illya was being so kind and caring and all her concentration was going into holding in her tears. She wasn’t going to cry. She was going to fight back.

Illya fetched her painkillers from the guestroom, Napoleon brought her the promised glass of water, and Gaby took her pills like a good girl. While the medication was starting to work she flipped through Napoleon’s records. When Illya came into the living room with her sandwich, Gaby asked him if it okay to put some music on. She didn’t bother to ask Napoleon because she knew he wouldn’t mind.

“Go ahead,” Illya said and put Gaby’s plate on the coffee table. Napoleon caught his eye, lifting his brows and grinning. Illya pretended not to know what Napoleon was grinning about, even if he was acutely aware.

Gaby put slow music on and sat down next to Illya to eat her sandwich. Before long, she fell asleep, overcome by the medication and her own exhausted body. She curled around her broken arm and Illya covered her with a blanket, huffing indignantly at Napoleon’s continued grin.

“Would it be better if she was cold?” he asked.

“No, of course not,” Napoleon said, still smiling. “But personally, I would have just put the blanked on. I wouldn’t had stroked her hair afterward.”

“I did not stroke her hair,” Illya frowned.

“Yes, you did,” Napoleon smirked and lifted his newspaper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The painting in Napoleons apartment is Woman in Blue Reading a Letter by Johannes Vermeer. In real life the painting has been part of Rijksmuseum’s collection since 1885.


	5. Firebird and snowflake

Gaby woke up to the noises from the hall. It seemed that Napoleon and Illya were bickering on something.

“She is an old friend,” Napoleon said. “We go back weeks. Everything is just fine.”

“What is it?” Gaby asked and rubbed her eye with her palm.

“Do you mind if an old friend of my pops around for a visit?” Napoleon asked.

“No,” Gaby said. ”It’s your home.”

“Case closed,” Napoleon said smiling to Illya.

“Were you fighting?” Gaby asked. ”It’s just a friend who is visiting.”

Illya frown his brows. When the guess arrived half an hour later it turned out to be tall and shapely brunette who was just hastily introduced as “friend” before Napoleon whisk her away in his bedroom.

“He brought some women here while we are here,” Gaby huffed.

“Please, it is just a friend who is visiting,” Illya said sarcastically and turn the page on his book.

Gaby couldn’t help but laughing. It was rear that Illya was joking. She watched the closed door on Napoleons bedroom and wondered how he acted there. Would Napoleon seduce his women slowly with time or did he just jump on it. In Vinciguerra case he had jump on it, or at least that how it had been sounding. But now he wasn’t working.

“Are you interested?” Illya blurt and Gaby stopped staring the door.

“What?” Gaby asked. ”Napoleon or what’s going on in there?”

“Either one,” Illya said and seemed a bit tighter then he should have been.

“Napoleon. No,” Gaby said first because she knew that was what Illya would like to know. “But the rest of it… yes. I’m sometimes little jealous at him.”

“Because he sleeps with every attractive woman he sees?” Illya asked.

“Yes,” Gaby smiled. “He is free and can do what he pleases.”

“You are free,” Illya pointed out. “You can do what you please.”

“That’s true. But it isn’t still the same. I know the world is changing, but it’s still much differed what is expected for women”, Gaby said. “It doesn’t mean that I would like that to be my life. It must be sometimes so tiresome to always be looking for a new person to warm your bed. I think Napoleon takes it like sport.”

Illya huffed.

“Do you disapprove of him?” Gaby asked interested.

“He is a grown man. Ha can make his own decisions,” Illya said.

“That not what I ask now is it?” Gaby pointed out. “Do you disapprove of him?”

Illya took a deep breath and finally lifted his eyes off his book. “Yes.”

“Why?” Gaby asked.

”He takes it very lightly,” Illya said. ”People, relationships, women. They deserve more. Like you said, he sees it as sport. I do not see it like that. I think that”, Illya pointed Napoleons bedroom door, “belong between peoples who care and love for each other.”

“Illya Kuryakin,” Gaby said smiling. “Who would have thought that you are such a romantic.”

Illya huffed and lifted his book. He could feel the redness covering his cheeks and he didn’t want Gaby to see it.

“I would like to take a bath,” Gaby said. “Could you help me?”

“In the bath?” Illya asked carefully.

“No,” Gaby smiled. “I think I can manage. But would you help to cover the cast with plastic bag? It’s easier if you have two hands.”

So Illya covered Gaby’s cast in plastic and taped it on her skin and was only little disappointed that she didn’t need more help. His hand stopped for a while when they could hear a noticeable moan from the bedroom.

“Enjoy the show,” Gaby smirk and left uncomfortable Illya alone. She filled the bathtub and poured more bath oil then was strictly necessary. Her bruised body relaxed at the hot water. She closed her eyes and inhaled the bath oils jasmine fragrance. Gaby wondered how uncomfortable Illya was in the living room. Or was he been that just because she was there too. It didn’t make Gaby that uncomfortable. He liked that Napoleon didn’t try to hide what he was. And Gaby hoped that she would be as brave. And still she felt guilt about the things in her past.

Gaby still didn’t know what she an Illya were or were they anything. There have been something between them in Rome, that was clear, but then they have become team and they both had been professionals about it. But the thing that had been keeping Gaby up at nights, what happened to it? It didn’t just disappear. Gaby felt it still inside her. She had pushed in somewhere deep where it wasn’t in her way, somewhere were her childhood and most of her life behind the iron curtain were. But there it still was. It could stay there, form itself and brew. It would tell her when it was ready to be something real. Gaby wasn’t going to rush it or smother it. She just let it be, flout around and take its time. But if it was something big and life changing and something that Illya would want too, Gaby didn’t want to hide her past.

Illya was reading in the kitchen. The noises didn’t carry there. Gaby was drying her hair in a blue towel and brought her arm to Illya. He started to remove the tape on Gaby’s skin.

“I have never be in love,” Gaby said. Illya´s hand continued removing the tape. “But I am not a virgin.”

Illya swallowed. He struggled with the last tape and knew Gaby notice it. “Why are you telling me?” He asked.

Gaby sat opposite to Illya. “Just because. I didn’t want to lie. And in this case not telling was lying. Or at least it felt like it,” Gaby explained calmly. “I don’t want you to disapprove of me, but I don’t also want you to think I am better than I really am.”

Illya nodded. To him, Gaby’s honesty was very rare. He was use to the lies. Everybody in his life and world lied. Everybody has some sort of role to play, everybody’s answers were questionable. And then Gaby just came and told the truth. Illya didn’t doubt that Gaby was telling the truth. She had no reason to tell anything like that if it wasn’t.

Now Gaby was sitting other side of the table, fresh as a daisy, hairs still wet and cheeks red after hot bath. Illya wanted to ask more, but he really didn’t want to make Gaby uncomfortable.

“Are you disapproving me?” Gaby asked lightly but was scared of the answer.

“No,” Illya said so quickly that he almost surprised himself. “I somehow do not think that your conquests are in same numbers as in Cowboys.”

“Not quite,” Gaby confessed and smiled. “My conquests are same as Napoleon´s today.”

Illya opened his mouth to speak, but then he didn’t say anything.

”Should we eat?” Gaby asked. ”I´m quite hungry and I think they,” Gaby said and pointed toward Napoleons bedroom, “need to be fed.”

Illya was the one who cooked, because Gaby couldn’t do much with her left hand. She tried to chop the carrots, but it was difficult and she lost her patience and they Illya took the knife away from her. So Gaby set the table, that she could do. Illya was standing by the stove and thinking only the man who had touched Gaby. Had he been worthy of her. Finally Illya had to ask because he couldn’t any more not to ask.

“Was he good to you?” Illya asked and stared the frying pan.

First Gaby didn’t understand what Illya was asking, but when she did she blushed a bit. “He…” Gaby remembered. “He wasn’t bad for me, so I guess that means good. He was… It was fun for a little while. Then it was just irritating. Then he left and never came back and I didn’t mind.”

Illya nodded to the frying pan and Gaby continued to setting the table.

“Because I can arrange someone to visit him,” Illya said for a while. “If there is need for that.”

Gaby placed the last fork in the table. ”I would laugh if I didn’t believe that you are actually serious,” Gaby said.

Illya turned his head and look Gaby straight in her eyes.

“There’s no need for that,” Gaby said. Her heart was suddenly pounding in her chest.

Illya nodded and turned back to the stove. “You let me know if the situation changes.”

“I will,” Gaby said and smiled again. “I can’t think of any reason why it would, but I will.”

Illya cooked in silence. Gaby went through Napoleons wine bottles. After the food was ready, they ate just two of them. Fried liver, potatoes, carrots and gravy. Gaby had selected the wine.

“This is good”, Gaby said between bites. “For some reason I thought only Napoleon could cook.”

“It is nothing special. A fuel,” Illya said.

“If it was only fuel you wouldn’t add honey and rosemary in the carrots,” Gaby pointed out. “You should learn how to take compliments.”

“Do you cook?” Illya ask because he didn’t want to be the subject of the conversation.

“I… manage to stay a live”, Gaby described. “I don’t know can you call it cooking. Everything always burns or dries or is too salty or gets some weird texture. I can bake a few things, but that’s about it. My talents are elsewhere.”

“My mother used to teach us,” Illya said and smiled to the nice memory.

Gaby stopped her chewing. She didn’t know what so say. This was very open thing Illya to say. So Gaby didn’t say anything. She just waited Illya to continue.

“She was a good cook,” Illya told and looked Gaby who had started eat again. “She made the best apple pie. A Russian apple pie. Cowboy would probably call it a cake.”

“Us?” Gaby asked gently. ”Who else was she teaching?”

“Sasha,” Illya said and the soft expression vanished from his face. He wasn’t going to talk about him. “He was my older brother.”

Gaby nodded. She wanted to ask what had happened to him, but she didn’t want to pressure Illya. He would tell if he wanted.

“He died at scarlet fever when I was nine,” Illya said quietly. He knew he had left Gaby full of questions and he didn’t want to be deliberately mysterious.

“I’m sorry,” Gaby said.

Illya nodded and shrugged then his shoulders. ”It was long time ago.”

Gaby didn’t ask more, just took some more carrots. They sat in silence. It wasn’t oppressive silence that made everybody uncomfortable. It was easy one, the one between people who a comfortable with each other and don’t play any roles. Easy silence when you can just be and you don’t have to fill every moment with words just because the silence is awkward. Gaby smiled to Illya on the other side of the table and was given little twitch in corners of his mouth to return.

“It’s quiet like a grave in here,” Napoleon said as he entered the kitchen. He was wearing blue satin rope. He shins and part of chest was showing. He poured water at the tab. ”Did you made dinner?”

“There’s enough for you two,” Gaby said.

Napoleon picked the wine bottle from the table. “Château Latour Pauillac -61, excellent choice.”

“We are ready if you and your guest would like some privacy,” Illya said.

“I can see that you have trouble being liberal,” Napoleon grinned. “I have no reason to hide my guest. I just didn’t know could you two act nice.”

Gaby cleared her throat.

“Well could Peril act nice,” Napoleon corrected.

Illya didn’t say anything, but looked annoyed.

Napoleons brunette walk to the kitchen in black satin dressing gown and ask a glass of wine when she saw the open bottle. Gaby looked at her. She was taller and shapelier then Gaby and sensual looking in that way Gaby couldn’t ever successfully be. She didn’t even seem to notice Gaby and Illya until Napoleon had poured her wine. Then the brunette turned to them.

“Oh dear God,” she gasped when she see Gaby. “What’s happened to you?”

Suddenly Gaby remembered, that not only her hand was broken, she also had split lip and a bruise on her cheek. She felt even more insignificant next to Napoleons flashy guest. She wanted to look Illya and see what he was thing, but she didn’t dare in case he would look impressed.

“I told you already,” Napoleon reminded. “We were in little car accident.”

“Oh yes,” the brunette said, but didn´t look like she really did remember. “Get well soon.”

“Thank you,” Gaby said.

“You are Napoleons friends?” The brunette asked.

“Yes,” Napoleon took charge of the introduction. “Illya here is an architect and Gaby is… ballerina.”

“Ballerina,” the brunet sighed delighted. ”Where you dance?”

“In London,” Gaby said briefly.

“I do love ballet,” the brunette told. “I saw the Swan Lake when I was just a child and all the girls looked like princesses.”

“That is what I normally look”, Gaby assured. “We will leave you two dine in peace.” She squint her eyes to the grinning Napoleon and took the wine bottle off his hand. “Ballerina”, Gaby huffed quietly when she sat on the couch. “Why didn’t he just say that I was mechanic?”

“I think it would need more explaining then ballerina,” Illya said. “You look more like a ballerina.”

“I look like a mad man punch me in the face,” Gaby said and gave the wine bottle to Illya to pour in her glass. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome,” Illya said and smiled a bit. ”What was your last performance?”

“Please,” Gaby said.

“Christmas was just, so Nutcracker I am assuming”, Illya said and nodded.

“Stop,” Gaby asked but her lips were curling to smile.

“Can I guess?” Illya said. ”You were a snowflake.”

Gaby laughed quietly and pushed Illya´s shoulder with her healthy hand.

“I am sure you were charming,” Illya said and took the wine glass from Gaby and sipped. “What are you practicing when your hand heals?”

Gaby rolled her eyes.

“Not Swan Lake, it is too obvious,” Illya pondered. “So is Sleeping Beauty. Say you are doing Giselle.”

“Who am I?” Gaby asked. ”Probably not Giselle.”

“You are a Wili,” Illya said.

Gaby nodded even though she didn’t know anything of her role.

“You are lucky to break your wrist,” Illya pointed out. “Ankle would have been much worse.”

Gaby straightened both her legs and rolled her bare ankles. “Both just perfect.”

Illya looked Gaby’s slim ankles. Her toenails were painted red.

“I have never seen Giselle,” Gaby confessed. “Nor have I seen Swan Lake, Sleeping Beauty or Nutcracker. But I have seen Firebird. It was beautiful.”

“I like Firebird too,” Illya said. “I like the Infernal Dance.”

“Oh you are so very Russian,” Gaby said smiling and took her wine back. “I bet you would win a bear if you would have to wrestle with on.”

“Who say I had not already?” Illya asked and raised his other brow in a way that was so obviously learned from Napoleon.

Gaby didn’t have chance to say anything else when Napoleon and his brunette joined them.

“We decided to eat here,” Napoleon said. “Irene would love to hear more of your dancing.”

“Yes,” the newly named Irene said. “What are you dancing now?”

“We are between performances,” Gaby said like she know what she was doing. “We just finished Nutcracker.”

“Of course,” Irene said. “What were you?”’

”I was snowflake,” Gaby said.

“Oh that’s lovely. What do you dance next?”

“In a few week we are starting to practice Giselle,” Gaby told.

“I have never seen it,” Irene said. “What part are you dancing? Are you Giselle? I’m sure there’s Giselle.”

“I am dancing Wili,” Gaby just said.

Irene nodded but then shook her head. “That doesn’t really say anything to me.”

“Wilis are mythological creatures,” Illya told and took the wine glass from Gaby.

“Will you need another glass?” Napoleon asked.

“We will manage,” Illya said and turned back to Irene. “Wilis are ghosts of women who have been betrayed by their lovers. They wander through the forest at night in search of men. And when they find one, they will dance with them until the men all die from exhaustion.”

Irene leaned against the coffee table fork in her hand and just sighed. “That is so tragically beautiful.”

Illya nodded and poured more wine to Irene’s glass. “The best story’s always are.”

Irene smiled gently to Illya and touched her neck with her fingertips. Suddenly Gaby felt like punching the smile off that stupid face. But that wouldn’t be very ballerina like.


	6. Low water pressure

Napoleon waited until he got eye contact to Gaby. He took grumpy expression on his face and pointed Gaby. First she didn’t understand what he meant, but then she realized how frowned her whole face was and relaxed it. Her forehead was crinkled, her nose wrinkled and lips turned towards her chin. She had looked like she smelled something rotting. So she took peaceful expression on her face and took the wine glass from Illya.

Reason to Gaby’s grumpy face was Napoleons brunette guest, Irene. She was sitting in the floor, leaning against the coffee table in her black satin dressing gown. She was watching Illya lovingly and sigh his every word. When Illya had told everything worth telling about from ballet, Irene remembered that Napoleon had said Illya was architect and now they were talking about it. Napoleon said something once in a while, but mostly Illya talked and Irene ask question. Always sighing, always smiling. Gaby wanted to punch somebody. She felt herself boring and also ugly because of her bruises. And Irene’s tall and shapely body didn’t help. She had told how once she was dreaming about being a ballerina, but then she had grown too big. Same time she had smiled and slide her hands against her ribcage and waist. Then she had turned towards Gaby and said she was so lucky for being so tiny. Illya had taken the wine glass only seconds earlier. If not, Gaby probably would have squeezed it to pieces. Even with her weaker left hand.

But most of all she was annoyed because of Illya. Sure she knew Illya could act a bit. But this was getting ridicules. Illya keep looking Irene in the eyes, he didn’t turn his gaze away, not ones. He was answering Irene’s questions with whole sentences, not just singular words. He was asking questions and he was smiling this little mysterious smile. And Irene didn’t have to make any efforts to make Illya act like that. Illya was charming and even Napoleon seemed little worried when Irene was flirting with him. He was on his way to talking her pants off with ballet and architecture.

Napoleon went to kitchen and returned with box of chocolates. “Would anyone care so Belgium chocolate? Finest quality.”

“No, thank you,” Irene said. ”I’m watching my figure.”

“Gaby?”

“Yes, please,” Gaby said and took a piece.

“I thought ballerinas have to watch every mouthful they took,” Irene said and smiled.

Gaby lifted her hand again and took whole handful of chocolate. “You know, I just can’t put on any weight. I can eat and eat and eat and nothing gets stuck,” Gaby said like it would have been a problem.

“You are lucky,” Irene said but wasn’t smiling anymore. Napoleon covered his laugh with cough.

When Irene went to “powder her nose”, Napoleon turned to Illya. “What are you doing,” he asked. “Are you trying to hit on her?”

“Of course not,” Illya said. ”What are you talking about?”

“You are pouring her constantly more wine, smiling and talking about lines and shapes of things,” Napoleon pointed out. “She is like melted wax in your hands. Stop it.”

“First I cannot act nice and now I am acting too nice,” Illya said, “Make up your mind.”

“If this performance was for me, then congratulations,” Napoleon said annoyed. “You win. You can stop now. Please be yourself.”

Illya shrugged his shoulders. ”Some people are not happy with anything,” he said to Gaby and frowned his brows when he saw Gaby’s face. “What is it?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Gaby pointed out.

“You look like you would like to hit somebody,” Illya said. “You look angry.”

“Maybe you are just looking me wrong,” Gaby huffed. ”Shouldn’t you be guiding her to your bedroom already”, Gaby asked to Napoleon.

“I’m not sure is she willing to fallow me anymore,” Napoleon said. “I really didn’t think that I would have to fight woman’s attention against that grumpy.”

Illya crossed his hand to his chest and looked displeased.

Irene returned. Her satin gowns edge waved and revealed her other leg all the way to her thigh. When she sat down, she didn’t cover the bare thigh. “What were we talking about?” she sighed. ”You said something beautiful about the architecture of Versailles,” Irene said and smiled to Illya.

“Did I?” Illya asked.

“You did,” Gaby said, “You were telling how architecture that beautiful makes you emotional and you were describing how sunset makes the colours of the marble to dance, like you were looking at it through candlelight.” Gaby made little arrogant smile when Illya look at her and sipped her wine. “And she was right. It was beautiful.”

Illya frowned. ”Marble does that,” he said between his teeth.

Irene slide her fingers against the leg of her wine glass. “The garden is supposedly very magnificent.”

Illya shrugged his shoulders. “Shrubbery, fountains, nothing special.”

Irene’s smile settled little. Gaby on the other hand liked Illya´s short answers.

Illya took the wine glass from Gaby and drank the rest of it. “More?” he asked and looked Gaby. She made a little gesture with her fingers to say go ahead. For some reason Illya did notice that even if he was staring Gaby’s eyes the whole time.

Napoleon was momentarily really thought that Illya was interested at his brunette. But now the Russian just stared Gaby like there were no other people in the room. Napoleon was wondering had they already stepped across the line between friendship and something more. If not, at least it wasn’t because Illya didn’t want that. His stare was strong enough to melt ice.

“Nothing special?” Irene asked. ”I thought the fountains were grander than anywhere else.”

“They never worked properly,” Illya said. “Too little water. Hired men were constantly opening and closing the fountains in the garden. They open always the ones the King was facing and closed the ones he had already passed in his walks. Just smoke and mirrors. Nothing was real.”

“Really?” Gaby asked.

Illya nodded. ”There was never enough water pressure to keep more than few fountains on.”

“That is quite interesting,” Gaby said and sipped the wine. “How did they open and close the fountains?”

“I assume they just controlled the water pipes,” Illya said and took the wine glass. “I think with a big wrenches,” he said and drank.

Gaby smiled. “I do like those.”

“You like wrenches?” Irene asked slowly. She didn’t like the new direction the conversation had taken.

Gaby nodded. “I have one under my pillow at home.”

Illya nodded. “She has.”

Irene’s mouth pressed to displease line and she sipped her wine unhappily. Napoleon pressed his hand in her shoulder and stroked it a bit. He leaned closer and whispered something in her ear. Irene’s seductive smile returned and she winked her eye to Napoleon over her shoulder. Then they stood up.

“We are doing to say good night and go to bed”, Napoleon said. ”Don’t you crazy kids do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“That is not really limiting anything away,” Illya said and made Gaby smile.

When Napoleons bedroom door closed, Illya put the shared wine glass on the coffee table. “What does Cowboy see women like that?” He asked.

Gaby tilted her head. ”Like what?”

“Empty,” Illya said after wondering a while. “She had nothing to say to the conversation. She just asked boring questions, fingered her glass and showed more and more of bare skin.”

“Did it bother you?” Gaby asked. ”The skin?”

”It annoyed me,” Illya said. ”She was just assuming that by showing her skin she would make any man interested of her.”

“So bare skin does nothing for you?” Gaby asked.

”Of course it does,” Illya said. "But there has to be some feelings. Otherwise it is just flesh.” Then he thought about Gaby’s skin. Her bare ankles witch she had been rolling earlier. Her bare back when she hade took of her pajama top in her own bedroom. Her thighs when she had climbed on the table in Rome, lifted her colourful skirt and dared them to checked her tracker. All that skin had done something to Illya. But then Gaby wasn’t just anybody. She was a mechanic and ballerina, sometimes pretending to be his fiancé. She slept wrench under her pillow and flirted with her car. Gaby was much more than her skin. Right now she was a girl who pressed her cast protectively little too often and breath deeper to keep the pain away.

“I will get you painkillers”, Illya said and brought them to her with a glass of water.

“Thank you,” Gaby said. “After this I’m ready for bed.”

Illya nodded.

Gaby stood up and took few steps towards the guestroom. Then she turned around. “Are you coming too, or do you want to stay up longer?”

“I am sleeping on the couch,” Illya said.

“Well it was because I was mad,” Gaby reminded. “I’m not anymore. So you can come to bed, there’s more room there. If you want.”

Illya smiled Gaby’s back and followed her. Gaby was after all right. There was more room in the bed. The couch was little too short. And the bed was wider too, even if Gaby took some space. But she was curled around her cast like a cat again and was just small warm ball in the bed. Her back was pressed against Illya´s side. When nightmare woke Illya up in the middle of the night, he could feel Gaby’s warmth against him. It soothed him. Illya had noticed that his nights were more peaceful when Gaby was sleeping next to him. She brought calmness in his life which Illya couldn’t believe he would ever have. He didn’t know were they everything they could be or was there chance of something more. But right now it was enough. The warm ball against him was enough.

The blizzard had calmed down by morning. Illya changes his clothes before Gaby rolled out of the beddings. Illya sat on the bedside and handed Gaby her painkillers and a glass of water. She took them but wrinkled her nose as to say she didn’t want to take them because she would get tired but she did anyway because Illya would insist it and she couldn’t handle it because her hand was hurting because she hadn’t took her painkillers. It was a very significant wrinkle, and she was given little smile for return.

“Air is calm,” Illya told. “I guess we can fly home today.”

“That’s nice,” Gaby yawned. “It’s nicer to sleep when you don’t have to hear other people’s moans in the next room.”

Illya nodded and stood up. He went to make the coffee and left Gaby change her clothes in peace. Napoleon and his brunette were still in his bedroom.

Gaby struggle with her shirt buttons. She went Napoleons record player and flipped thorough his albums. She wanted some music. Nothing crazy, it was still morning, but nothing too mellow either so she didn’t fall asleep because of her medications. She put Frank Sinatra on.

“Swing music,” Illya said when Gaby went to kitchen. ”You like swing music?”

“Yes I do,” Gaby said and made little dance move. “It’s fun and you can dance to it. Its happier then blues but not as chirpy as pop.”

“Could you dance the bacon from the refrigerator?” Illya asked.

Gaby smiled. ”That sounded almost like a joke. You should be careful with that. If you lose your seriousness the whole team can get unbalanced.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely,” Gaby said head in the fringe. ”You are serious and grumpy and Napoleon is charming and loose. “

“And you?” Illya asked and took the bacon in Gaby’s hand.

“You tell me,” Gaby suggested and raised her brows. “If you dare.”

Illya huffed on Gaby dare, but think about it anyway. “Tiny and stubborn.”

Gaby smiled and shook her head. ”No.”

“Obviously not stubborn,” Illya said and lifted the bacon strips in the pan.

“I want nicer terms,” Gaby said. “I don’t want to be tiny and stubborn. I want to be clever of funny of divine.”

“You did not give me nice terms,” Illya pointed out. “To you I am grumpy and serious.”

“Serious isn’t bad,” Gaby said and leaned the counter next to the stove. She was standing so close to Illya that his hand brushed against her arm every time he moved the spatula. “I specifically said serious not boring. Serious is good. Just think about it, if we all were just charming and loose, we never get anything done. If nobody were serious we'd just drink vodka and dance around and have sex with the girls from the hotel reception.”

Illya smiled Gaby. “Well if you put it like that it is a big responsibility.”

Gaby nodded. “Yep. Are you up to it?”

“I think so,” Illya said. He flipped the bacon. “You can have the clever.”

“And divine?” Gaby asked smiling.

“Stubborn,” Illya said. “It is more accurate.”

Gaby tilted her head and pouted her lips. “Are you saying I’m not divine?”

“I did not say that,” Illya pointed out. “I said stubborn is more accurate.”

“So I am more stubborn then I am divine?” Gaby asked and lifted her hands on her hips. Or at least she tried. Her right hand and cast didn’t stay there so she just stood little awkwardly only other hand on her hip.

Illya tilted his head few timed as he pondered. “Yes.”

Gaby huffed.

“There is room for other qualitys too, after all you are you are very, very stubborn,” Illya pointed out.

“Who is stubborn?” Napoleon asked and gently pushed Gaby aside from the sink.

“Me apparently,” Gaby said. “Illya thinks that I am more stubborn than I am divine. Do you agree?”

“Who used the word divine?” Napoleon wanted to know.

“She,” Illya said and pointed Gaby with the spatula.

“Should have known,” Napoleon said little disappointed.

“You are charming and loose,” Illya said.

“Loose?” Napoleon huffed and turned to Gaby.

“If I’m stubborn then you are loose,” Gaby announced.

Napoleon left to answer the phone and didn’t had chance to argue his accused looseness. He returned shortly. “Gaby, your dad is calling,” he smirked.

Gaby went to the study and picked up the phone. ”Morning,” she said.

“Good morning,” Waverly said. “Nice to hear your voice. How are you?”

”All things considering, fine,” Gaby said. ”Some bruises, broken wrist.”

“It’s about six weeks in desk duty then,” Waverly said.

“That’s what the doctor said,” Gaby told.

“Let’s make it eight to be sure,” Waverly said. “Wouldn’t want to send you in field until you are heal properly. And the others? Solo? Kuryakin?”

“Nothing really. I was the one who took the beating.”

“Good,” Waverly said. “I mean not good that you got hurt, but that you were the only one. You did well. Too bad we didn’t get any information out of it. But better like this. Williams is handling your flights, so you can go home today.”

“That’s nice,” Gaby said. And it was nice. Own bed was always own bed. That of course meant that Napoleon would stay here and Illya would fly to Moscow. And she would have to wait to see them again. This time probably longer.

”I guess we are seeing in Thursday,” Waverly said.

Gaby snapped out of her thoughts. ”What? Thursday? Yes, Thursday. Of course. Just like always.”

”Excellent,” Waverly said. ”Williams will call your flight plans later. You have a safe flight.”

”We will.”

“Could you ask Kuryakin to the phone?” Waverly asked finally.

Gaby nodded, even if Waverly couldn’t see it. She returned to the kitchen.

“You are in trouble,” Napoleon predict when Gaby told Illya about the call.

Illya frowned and handed the spatula to Napoleon. She walked past Gaby and could have sworn that she deliberately moved her hand further from herself just that her hand would slide against his when he walked past her.

“Sir,” Illya said to the phone.

“Ah, Kuryakin,” Waverly said. “She said few bruises and a broken wrist. Was she telling the truth?”

“Yes,” Illya said.

“Was there a reason why you waited that long to shoot?” Waverly asked.

“I did not have a clear shot,” Illya told.

“What was on the way?” Waverly asked.

“She was,” Illya said. “I had to wait.”

“Well, it was good shot. Nice job.”

“We did not get anything from the operation,” Illya said. ”We had injured agent. The mission was failure.”

“Sometimes that happens,” Waverly said. “It was right call to make. Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Illya´s story about the low water pressure in Versailles is true. They really did open and closed them so that the king could only see them on.


	7. The Shark King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picture to go with the story: [Gibraltar, April](http://edenforest.tumblr.com/post/142908276170/getting-to-know-you-getting-to-know-all-about-you)

Small metal cylinder rolled along the table. Gaby tried to reach for it, but she wasn’t fast enough. The cylinder rolled over the edge of the table and dropped in the water. Gaby yanked her sunhat out of her head and threw her sunglasses on deck. She climbed fast in the railing and took a deep breath. If shark would eat her she hoped that somebody would revenge her death to Napoleon. Then she dived in the sea.

The water was clear witch made things easier. Gaby kicked the water and reach after the cylinder. Her fingers got a hold of it. Gaby squeezed it in her palm and pulled her hand against her chest. Until that moment everything was fine. She had had a mission which to focus. But now she had to swim back to the surface and think of all the big fishes in the sea that could eat her. Mostly sharks. And in the clear water she could see them all. Panic was settling in her, it vibrated in her limbs and made her swim toward the surface as fast as she could. She rose to the surface and pulled her lungs full of air.

“Did you get it?” Napoleon asked from the deck.

“Throw the ladders!” Gaby yelled. Underwater she had seen everything and that was scary. Every shadow made by sunbeams and waves was a potential shark. But in the surface she couldn’t anymore see the water and now that was a problem. There could be sharks everywhere around her and she couldn’t see them before it would be too late. Gaby couldn’t decide which was worse, see the water or not see the water. With every kick that was keeping her from not sinking she feared she would hit something. Her heart almost missed a beat when her legs touched each other.

“Now!” she yelled.

Napoleon threw the rope ladders and Gaby swim as fast as she could next to the boat. She grabbed the ladder and puller herself up. She still wasn’t safe. She was out of the water but her panic was yelling in her eat that shark big enough could still jump and sank its teeth to her. As long as she was in the wrong side of the railing she was in danger. Napoleon stretched out his hand and pull Gaby to the deck. She back out in the middle of it and only then took next proper breath. She was okay, she was fine, shark hadn’t eaten her.

“Are you okay?” Napoleon asked.

Gaby gave the metal cylinder to him. “If you drop it again, you are the one who dives.”

“The boat was rocking,” Napoleon argued. “It wasn’t just me.”

“Either way,” Gaby said. ”I’m not doing that again.” Gaby climbed down below the deck along the narrow wood stairs. Illya was sitting by the listening table and glance over her. He pushed his headphones off to his other ear.

“Did you go for a swim?” He wondered. Gaby was soaking wet. Her yellow shorts and white blouse were glued against her skin, dark hairs onto her forehead and cheeks and water drops sparkled on her. Her bras were shoving though her top and Illya was looking little bit longer then he really considered appropriate.

“No,” Gaby said annoyed.

“Did you fell?” Illya asked.

”No,” Gaby said again. She was muttering something in German and walked past Illya to the tiny room. She fought against the stiff accordion door and managed to close it, cursing in German.

The door was closed but in both sides it was inch too narrow and Illya could see Gaby’s movements in the small space. She was taking her clothes of. Time to time he could hear wet piece of fabric hitting the floor. After few noises Illya knew Gaby didn’t have anything else to remove. She was drying herself and little fragment of her movements was showing through. And all the time she was muttering angry in German and Illya tried to keep up.

“Was there really that many sharks?” Illya asked.

“Well, no,” Gaby admitted. ”But it was just a lucky coincidence.”

Corners of Illya´s mouth twitched. He was still technically listening the transmitter, but really he was listening Gaby´s German rant about sharks, dangers of the sea and about how she think that Napoleon was the one who they should sacrifice to the shark king if it would come to that.

Illya took the headphones off his head. “The shark king?”

“Yes,” Gaby sighed as she pushed the rigid accordion door open. She was wearing dry clothes and dangled the wet one in her hand. “The shark king. The one who rules all the other sharks and gives them orders. I assume you are familiar of the concept of monarchy. We can call him shark tsar if you are more comfortable with that.”

“King is just fine,” Illya said. He really didn’t thing he would use the term “shark king” that often. He put the headphones back on and watched Gaby climbing up the stairs. Her short shorts were revealing most of her thighs. Illya frowned and turned back to the listening devise. Working in hot climate brought out sometimes disturbance which wouldn’t be a problem in cooler place. Gaby wouldn’t wear that short shorts if it were snowing and if it were snowing Illya could concentrate better.

Gaby hanged her wet clothes in the sails rope. She waved her hair to dry it out.

“The microfilm is fine,” Napoleon said. “Fortunately the cylinder was waterproof.”

“Good,” Gaby said. “Did you already check the best route away from the house?”

“Yes,” Napoleon said and pushed map across the table. “It’s marked there.”

Gaby nodded and glance the map. Napoleon took that time to glance Gaby.

“Have you got any longer trousers with you?” Napoleon asked.

“What?” Gaby huffed and leaned her palms against the table.

Napoleon waver his hand towers Gaby’s shorts. “Did you deliberately choose that short shorts?”

Gaby frown her brows and looked her shorts. “This is how they are nowadays. I can’t control the fashion. Is there something wrong with these?”

“No,” Napoleon assured. “Not at all. Don’t get me wrong, they look great. I’m just wandering did you put those on by chance or for some specific reason.”

“Like what reason?” Gaby asked. ”Because the air is warm?”

“Yes,” Napoleon said and moved maps around the table. “Or because of Peril?”

“What do you mean?” Gaby asked and crossed her arms on her chest.

Napoleon smiled. “You know what I mean.”

“I really don’t,” Gaby said and shrugged her shoulders.

“So you haven’t notice how he looks at you every time you bend down or reach out to something or walked up the stairs?” Napoleon asked his head tilted.

“No,” Gaby said. It wasn’t entirely true.

”Well do you notice the other thing you do to make him happy?” Napoleon asked and sat down by the table.

“I don’t do anything,” Gaby insisted.

“You don’t? Not even when you are excited of something?” Napoleon smirked.

”No,” Gaby said and sat down. But she really wasn’t sure anymore. She liked to think she wasn’t doing anything but Napoleons smile was so knowing and sure. Maybe he was right. “What would I even do?”

Napoleon smiled. ”You twirl,” he said.

Gaby made little nervous laugh. “No I don’t.”

Napoleon nodded. ”When Peril is around and you are excited about something, you twirl. You lift yourself in to tiptoes and make a little pirouette.”

Gaby shrugged her shoulders. “I’m sure lot of people does that.”

“I’m sure,” Napoleon grinned.

The sun was setting behind the sea. Napoleon lighted the lanterns on the deck and Gaby was staring somewhere on the horizon.

“It’s okay you know,” Napoleon said and Gaby wake in her trance.

“What?”

“Your twirls,” Napoleon said. ”It’s okay to do that. Like I said, Illya likes those. His mouth twitches when you do.”

Gaby tried to hide her smile.

“I can’t really see how you feel, not really. I can see the surface but not what’s inside of you. Peril on the other hand, now he I can see. He really can’t hide it,” Napoleon told. “So I don’t know what this is what you are doing, but I hope you are not teasing him just for fun. That would be just unnecessarily cruel.”

“Are you afraid of some broken furniture?” Gaby asked lightly even if she felt the seriousness.

“I think it would break a lot more than just furniture,” Napoleon said. “He really isn’t as strong inside then he is outside.”

Gaby smiled gently. “I didn’t know you cared so much.”

“Well somebody has to,” Napoleon said. “I don’t think he has that many people of his life to do that. And we are his team, isn’t it our job anyway?”

“Oh, Napoleon,” Gaby sighed. “Your heart is showing,” she teased.

Napoleon grinned. “Sometimes I have to show it so you’d believe it’s there.”

Gaby smiled. She looked his watch. “It’s my turn to go listening. I’m going to release Illya.”

“I can go,” Napoleon said and stood up.

“It’s my turn,” Gaby pointed out.

“I know,” Napoleon nodded. “But I can go for a while. You can make some tea. Its nice night to drink tea. Sunset and everything.”

“Are you arranging time for me and Illya?” Gaby asked.

Napoleon shrugged his shoulders. ”Just time. Who do you spent it is up to you.”

Gaby shook her head and laughed quietly. She fallowed Napoleon below the deck, filled the kettle and turned the stove on. “I can make some snacks.”

Illya was handing the headphones to Napoleon. Both of them turned to Gaby.

“You are making snack?” Napoleon said carefully. ”Do you need help?”

Gaby huffed and lifted her hands in her hips. “It’s just sandwiches, so there’s no need to be scared. It’s just stacking things. Even I can do that.” She turned back to the little kitchen nook. She pulled the bread from the cupboard and bend down to look inside the fridge. For a moment she let herself wonder was Illya watching. She buttered the bread and glance Illya who was stretching his back. His shirt was pulling up and Gaby could see part of his stomach. The water was boiling and Gaby poured it in teakettle. Illya climbed on the deck and Gaby put the tealeaf on the water. She added spoonful of sugar on Napoleons tea and took it and a sandwich to him in the small listening table. She got smile and wink to return. Gaby made her tea and then she took the black cherry jam in the cupboard. She carried the teacups and sandwiches up on the deck. Illya was doing push-ups.

“Little exercise,” Gaby said and sat down behind the sail in a bench where they kept oxygen tanks and life vests.

Illya stopped and sat down next to Gaby. “It is nice after hunching down for a long time.”

Gaby handed Illya his tea. He bite the sandwich she hasn’t manages to burn or over salt and sipped his tea.

“Is that cherry?” Illya asked.

“What kind of a spy doesn’t know how her team takes there teas or coffees,” Gaby asked. “It’s not really rocket science anyway. You have to see it only once and you know. Spoonful of sugar for Napoleon, black cherry jam for Illya.”

“Two spoonful of sugar and a slash of milk for Gaby,” Illya said with a soft expression on his face. “I did not know that black cherry jam would be standard item on rented boat.”

“Well,” Gaby had to confess, “maybe it wasn’t. Maybe I bought it just for you. So you can feel little smug about that.”

Illya smiled because he couldn’t not to smile.

“But the milk is just when I’m with you. I have tea weekly with Waverly and there I take it just with sugar. Once I poured milk in Earl Grey and he still mentions it’s from time to time. I was trying to explain that I’m German and I didn’t get proper tea training like every English apparently, so I couldn’t have known that you shouldn’t be having Earl Grey with milk,” Gaby told.

Illya´s brows frowned. “You have tea with Waverly every week?”

Gaby nodded. “On Thursdays. If we are in the same country.”

“Every week?” Illya repeated.

“Yes,” Gaby said smiling. ”What about it?”

“It is a bit odd that you are having a meeting every week with our boss without all of us there,” Illya said. Of course he knew that Gaby was Waverly’s favorite but the whole team should be there if they had a meeting.

“There not work meetings,” Gaby explained. “Purely social meetings. We just have tea and talk.”

“That sounds even more odd,” Illya said.

“No, it’s nice,” Gaby said. “It’s nice to tell somebody of your life. He's interested.”

“I am interested,” Illya said quietly.

“But you are not there in every Thursday,” Gaby pointed out and pushed Illya's shoulder with her own. “And it's not same thing. He gives me advice if I need one. It kind of… he's like an uncle.”

Illya lifted his brows.

“A nice uncle,” Gaby corrected quickly. “Nice uncle who doesn’t torture others. I don’t have anyone like that anymore, nor have I in a long time. It’s nice to have somebody to give you fatherly advice.”

Illya nodded. “But you do not talk about work.”

“That's not really what you want to know isn't it?” Gaby said. “You want to know do we talk about you and Napoleon when you are not around.”

“I do not care if you talk about Cowboy,” Illya said.

“Just you then?” Gaby laughed.

Illya shrugged his shoulders like it didn’t matter, but it did.

“Sometimes we talk about you,” Gaby said. “Napoleon. You. But not work things. Just… other things.”

“Like what?” Illya asked.

”I can't think of anything specific,” Gaby said. But Illya was looking at her. His brows were frowned and Gaby wanted to smooth his forehead, so she thought harder. “Well, after my wrist was broken we talk about that. About how angry I was to you and how it was so hard not to cry later when you held my wrist and talked.”

Illya lower his gaze. He felt guilt about how he had let Gaby fell in the floor oven and over again with her knife and how he had yelled her.

“Do you talk about me to anybody?” Gaby asked and sipped her tea.

“Sometimes,” Ilya said.

Gaby was surprised. She wasn’t expecting yes. ”To who?”

Illya shrugged his shoulders.

“To who?” Gaby wanted to know. She pushed Illya´s shoulder again with her own.

“To my psychiatrist,” Illya said quietly and little embarrassed.

“Oh,” Gaby said surprised. “I didn’t… how… are you…” She laughed nervously. ”I can't finish my sentence.”

“Waverly sent me,” Illya told. “I have seen him since Istanbul. Waverly did not understand why the KGB never did anything to help my... episodes.”

“Does it help?” Gaby asked. But she already knew it did. Illya hadn't had an episode in months.

“Yes. I think so,” Illya confessed.

“Good,” Gaby said. She pushed his shoulder gently one last time and got a little smile for return. “I think I should go listening. It's really my turn.” Gaby stood up. But before leaving she turned back to Illya, placed her hand in his shoulder, leaned closer and pressed kiss on his cheek. Slowly and softly.

”What was that for?” Illya asked.

Gaby smiled. ”I don't know. Nothing. Something to tell to you psychiatrist,” she said before disappearing in the stairs.


	8. The muse

It was two am. Gaby leaned her cheek on her palm and tried to keep her eyes open. For last four hours she had been listened the transmitters and heard nothing significant. She jumped when Napoleon pressed his hand on her shoulder.

“Has anything happened?” Napoleon asked.

“Nothing,” Gaby said.

“Go to sleep,” Napoleon told her.

Gaby stood up and handed the headphones to Napoleon. “Good night,” she said, rose to her toes and kiss Napoleon on the cheek.

“Wrong guy,” Napoleon grinned.

Gaby went the tiny room and undressed herself. She didn’t close the accordion door because it was too noisy. But she and Napoleon had an agreement; he didn’t peek and she didn’t stab his face. It all worked beautifully. She slide on little cotton nigh gown and went to the sleeping quarters on the front of the ship. Illya´s heavy and steady breathing filled the space. Gaby crawled to the room wide sleeping platform and lied down over her blanket. It was warm and she didn’t want to go under it. She turned her face toward Illya. His hand was right next to her, so she pressed her own hand against it and let her fingers in to twine with he´s. Even in the dark Gaby could see corners of Illya´s mouth twitch.

“I didn’t meant to wake you,” Gaby whispered.

There was a little expression in his mouth and brows. It lasted only second, but the message was clear; he didn’t mind.

Gaby closed her eyes. In many nights she had problems to fall in sleep. But not when Illya was around. With next to him Gaby fell asleep without problems. She liked to think it was because she felt safe around him.

When Gaby woke her hand was empty. She crawled up and wobbled still unsteady legs to the boats small toilet. She brushed her teeth and hairs. Gaby poured herself a cup of coffee in the kitchen nook and went to Illya in the listening table.

“Is anything happening?” Gaby asked and sipped her coffee.

Illya shook his head and moved the headphones off his other ear. “They are fighting at breakfast. He does not like pulp in his orange juice.”

“Some people you just can’t please,” Gaby sighed. ”I myself don’t have a strong opinion about pulp. I don’t need it, but it doesn’t bother me.”

“Good to know,” Illya muttered.

“Did you just make this?” Gaby asked and looked her coffee. “It’s hot and fresh.”

“Yes,” Illya said.

Gaby nodded. She wondered did Illya made the coffee to her, but she didn’t ask. There was always a chance that the answer would be no. And Gaby liked the idea that he had made it just for her, so she didn’t ask. She climbed to the deck and breathed in the fresh air. The sun was shining and the sea was sparkling like there was thousands of diamond floating there. She took down her dried clothes and then reached over the railing. She couldn’t see underwater.

”They are leaving somewhere,” Illya said when Gaby retuned below the deck. “Wake up Cowboy.”

Gaby hurried to the sleeping quarters and kicked the bed. ”They are moving.”

Sleepy Napoleon fallow Gaby and they all stood in tight group around the listening table.

“Some Modigliani exhibition,” Illya said. “Cowboy?”

“Shouldn’t be a problem, there isn’t that many museums,” he said.

“If they are finally leaving the house they may have another reason too. Maybe they have a meeting,” Gaby said.

Napoleon yanked his shirt off and went to change his clothes. “Put the Pucci on,” he said to Gaby as he went.

Illya frowned and pushed the headphones off his other ear. “The Cardin I think,” he said and nodded.

Gaby rolled her eyes to both of them. “I think I’m going to bring my own choice for now on, so neither one of you can dress me up”, she said and pushed the rigid accordion door shut. She opened the garment bag that was hanging on the wall and gaze her options. She decided to put on which ever she liked the most and not to care who chose it. So she put on the white dress. Her skin looked extra tanned in that. Gaby gathered her hairs in loose bun on her neck and clipped on big plastic earrings. She pushed the door forcefully open and dangled her heels and clutch in her hand.

Illya glanced her and little smile appeared on his lips. Napoleon walked over, tying his necktie and shook his head to Gaby. Gaby just lifted her brows and looked displeased. She was perfectly capable of choosing her own clothes despite who was suggesting what. Illya handed Gaby’s earpiece and watched her to put it on and covering her ear with a few flock of her hair. Napoleon put the tracker in his pocket and buttoned his vest.

“Ready?” He asked and Gaby nodded.

“Just remember she will talk it all evening if you not let her drive,” Illya said.

Gaby turned around in the stairs and smiled to Illya for that. It was the first time she noticed that she really did rose in her tiptoes and made a little twirl instead of just turning around. She even pointed her toes at the end.

Gaby put her shoes on only when she parked the car at the museum. She attached the straps, slide two gold bands on her ring finger and lifted her sunglasses on her nose.

Napoleon put his hand in his pocket and switched the tracker on. “She only chose your dress because she felt sorry that you have to stay there all by yourself,” Napoleon said to test the signal.

“She chose it because it is better,” Illya said.

”Like I said,” Gaby sighed, “for now on I’m choosing my own clothes.”

Napoleon came to Gaby and offered his arm which Gaby took.

Air in the museum was warm, but there weren’t too many people. Gaby liked that. It was easier observe people when you didn’t have to push masses of them out of your way first. Gaby allowed Napoleon to walk her around slowly from room to room. Then he stopped and nodded quickly over Gaby’s shoulder.

“The man in grey and women in red,” Napoleon said.

Gaby glanced over her shoulder and saw the couple. “That´s them,” she confirmed, and didn’t fight back when Napoleon walked her closer. She was following like an obedient wife and cooling her face by waving the exhibition brochure at it. They were standing near the couple but not just next to them. When they moved to the next room, Gaby and Napoleon fallowed seemingly not noticing them.

“Which one suggested the exhibition?” Gaby asked.

“She did,” Illya said.

“She doesn’t seem that interested to the paintings,” Gaby said toward Napoleon even if she really was talking to Illya. “Neither of them seems interested.”

“Famous name pulls people around even if they don’t really care the art,” Napoleon said. He himself was watching the paintings. Maybe even more then he was watching the couple.

“He keeps looking his watch,” Gaby noticed.

“Let’s hope they have a meeting,” Napoleon said.

“Just imagine how silly we would look right next to them if I was wearing a red dress too,” Gaby said smiling.

Napoleon huffed and walked her around the room slowly. He stopped and stared the peoples. “Now she is a beautiful,” he sighed.

Gaby frown her brows and watched the peoples. “Which one?”

“Look at that neck. And those hazel eyes,” Napoleon muttered. ”I’m impressed.”

“Are you checking out other women when you are in museum with your wife?” Gaby asked.

“I have to meet her,” Napoleon said and let Gaby’s arm go.

“Are you serious?” Gaby hissed after him.

“What is happening there?” Illya asked.

“He just abandon his wife because of some other women,” Gaby muttered as she watched the couple. “Unbelievable.”

“I would not do that,” Illya said softy.

Gaby was smiling to herself. “I know. You are gentlemen. Unfortunately I apparently married an ass.”

“He is telling somebody she is beautiful,” Illya told Gaby what he heard. “No one replies.”

Gaby manages to get eye contact to Napoleon. “You got to be kidding me,” she muttered. ”I can see him.”

“Who is he talking to?” Illya asked.

“A painting,” Gaby huffed. ”He talks to a painting again. Should have known. All these long necks, of course he found somebody he wanted to take home.”

Gaby went to Napoleon who immediately turned to her. “Look at that neck,” he said. “And those hairs.”

“Remember, you can’t take her with you,” Gaby said.

“I would appreciate her much more than anybody here,” Napoleon assured and looked the women his head tilted. “Just look at her eyes. What a gaze.”

“Is one of you at least watching the marks?” Illya asked.

“I am,” Gaby promised. ”And I’m not going to let Napoleon leave here with two women. Don’t you worry.”

“I do not care if he leaves there with five women,” Illya said. ”As long as the painting stays.”

Gaby smiled to Illya even if he couldn’t see her.

“There is something magnetic about her eyes,” Napoleon said. “You can see how Modigliani loved her.”

“The painting?” Gaby asked.

“Yes. Well the model. His muse,” Napoleon told. ”Her fiancé, Jeanne.”

“Nice to meet you,” Gaby said.

“They never got to get married because her parents were against the union”, Napoleon said.

“Why?” Gaby asked.

“Modigliani was almost twenty years older that she was. He was an artist, alcoholic and drug user,” Napoleon explained.

“So not exactly every parent’s ideal son-in-law”, Gaby said smiling.

“Maybe not, but he did love her. They lived together even if her parents disapprove. They had a daughter, little over year old and another one on the way. I think they were happy,” Napoleon said and looked a bit sad. “She must have been pregnant when he was painting this. Maybe she looks so peaceful because she is becoming a mother. Or maybe that’s just look of a woman in love.”

“What happened?” Gaby whispered.

“Modigliani died in tuberculosis. Jeanne threw herself out of a window to her death the next day,” Napoleon told.

Gaby felt like there was something in her throat.

“She was just twenty-one year old and eight month pregnant,” Napoleon said. “It took ten years before her parents let her remains to be buried resting next to Modigliani so that they could be together again.”

Gaby notice that her breathing was shivering. “That is so sad.”

“You do know where the marks are?” Illya asked.

“Yes,” Gaby said and looked around. She was happy to actually see the couple, because the last minutes she had watched only the painting. “I can see them.”

“She was his muse,” Napoleon said. “She deserves better than any drafty museum.”

“Yes,” Gaby sighed.

“Do not try to influence Gaby with your sad stories, Cowboy,” Illya said. “That painting stays there.”

“Yes, yes,” Napoleon agreed. ”I’m just saying she would have better life with me.”

“Would you put her next to your Vermeer?” Gaby asked and yanked Napoleon with her when the couple in grey and red left the room.

“With those eyes she would be in the bedroom,” Napoleon said grinning.

Gaby laugh and let Napoleon walk her around again.

“And you never know,” Napoleon said. “Maybe we meet again.”

“Well if destiny brings you two together, I hope you’ll be very happy,” Gaby said gently.

“Is this what you talk when you are together?” Illya huffed in their earpieces.

“We can’t always talk about you,” Napoleon said and smiling Gaby pushed his arm. They could almost hear Illya´s eyebrows frowning.

“They are heading out,” Gaby said and they fallow them down the museum stairs and along the streets. “I hope they are going somewhere there’s food,” Gaby sighed.

Ten minutes later Gaby and Napoleon were sitting in outdoor café and waited their order. Gaby was facing the couple and watching them. Waiter brought them coffee and cake.

“I love cake,” Gaby sighed.

“I think everybody loves cake,” Napoleon said.

“If you can guess my favorite cake,” Gaby said and took a moment to ponder the prize. “I will agree with you in any subject of your choosing.”

“You like chocolate,” Illya said. “Chocolate cake.”

“I mean a specific cake,” Gaby said. ”Not just chocolate or vanilla. Specific cake, specific name.”

“Sachar cake,” Napoleon said.

“No,” Gaby said and filled her mouth with cake.

“Victoria sponge,” Napoleon tried again.

Gaby shook her head because she couldn’t talk.

“She´s shaking her head,” Napoleon narrated to Illya.

“That German chocolate cake with a weird name,” Illya said. “Black forest… cake. It is not cake, it is Black forest something.”

”Black Forest gâteau,” Napoleon said.

“Correct,” Gaby said.

“Should have known,” Napoleon smirked. ”You can get girl out of Germany but you can never get the Germany out of the girl.”

”Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte,” Gaby said. ”Now that is divine even if I am not.“ She was sure she could hear Illya make a little smile thought the earpiece.

“Can Peril use your agreement in case were you are disagreeing with him or when he is disagreeing with me and needs a second vote?” Napoleon asked.

“His choice,” Gaby said and ate more cake. She could see the men in grey standing up. “They are leaving.”

Gaby and Napoleon gave the couple some time to take distance and started fallowing them. The couple walked back to the museum and get in their car. Napoleon and Gaby fallowed them. And when the couple turned in the yard of their own house, Gaby drove straight ahead.

“They are back in the house,” Napoleon sighed. “They didn’t meet anybody. I seriously don’t know how they are moving this operation. They don’t talk about it, they don’t really call anybody and they don’t meet anybody. Unless there’s a tunnel under the house to some secret lair, I don’t know what’s happening.”

“I will switch on theirs tracker,” Illya said.

“We are going to drive different route back, just in case,” Napoleon said.

“Good,” Illya said. It was good to play safe.

Napoleon turn the tracker off and remove his earpiece. Gaby dropped hers in the clutch. She was driving and remembering where Napoleon had drawn the route.

“Are we turning here already?” She asked.

“No. After the hill,” Napoleon said. He had taken the map out. “Let’s stop somewhere to get some food. Something fresh and expensive. Maybe few bottles of wine. They are not going to leave the house today anyway.”

They stopped to a market. Napoleon picked what to buy, Gaby mostly touched the shiny sweet peppers and eggplants. Every time she heard an interesting noise from the road she lifted her head. First interesting noise was cream -61 Porsche 356B. The hubcaps were so shiny Gaby had to close her eyes. She put her sunglasses back on from her forehead. The next noise was a -60 Aston Martin DB4. It was beautiful dark green, 6-cylinder engine, 240 horsepower and Girdling’s disc brakes in all four tires. Gaby felt like she should maybe have a car with an engine of six cylinders. She would get to go faster with that. Or maybe she would need something even more powerful. Then she felt guilty because of her Spider. She was driving fast enough with that too. Besides the garage where her Spider spent the time she was in abroad wasn’t big enough for two cars. Then again she could rent two garages. Or maybe just a bigger one. And if she had a bigger garage she could have the Spider and something with six cylinders. And maybe a car that Illya could fit without moving the seats as far as they went. But even to Gaby three cars felt like exaggeration, wonderfully happy, but still exaggeration.

She wandered to the flower cart and smelled everything. She brought herself a bouquet of buttercups just because they were beautiful.

“I could have bought those to you,” Napoleon said. “I don’t think ladies should have to buy their own flowers.”

“Do you buy flowers all of your ladies?” Gaby asked.

“Maybe,” Napoleon said.

“And how many flower shops do keep in business all by yourself?” Gaby smirked.

Napoleon laughed. ”Just doing my part for the economy.”

“Oh, I believe,” Gaby smiled back.

“Does Peril?” Napoleon asked.

”Does he what? Do his part for the economy?” Gaby asked.

“Yes,” Napoleon nodded. ”More specifically does he buy you flowers?”

“Why would he do that? We are colleagues. Does he buy you flowers?”

“I thought that maybe he would buy them the same reason that I buy flower to women, just because it’s nice to make somebody happy,” Napoleon said.

”I am my own women. I can buy my own flowers,” Gaby assured.

“So that’s a no.”

“Yes that’s a no,” Gaby said. ”But I think there was a picture of a rose in the program of Giselle, and he took me there, so if you count that, then yes.”

Napoleon chose two big red onions. “Giselle? That ballet?”

“Yes,” Gaby said and smiled. ”It was beautiful. The first act was little too cheerful for my taste, but then a man breaks Giselle’s hear and she went mad and then dies. And then the whole second act happens at night it the forest on Giselle’s grave. It was haunting and beautiful. The dancers wore all white and they had veils on their faces. Then Giselle dances her last dance, forgives the man who broke her heart and returns to her grave.”

Napoleon smiled to Gaby’s enthusiasm. He felt like there was something that he had missed, but he couldn’t get it in his mind. Maybe it wasn’t anything too important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The muse in the museum is Jeanne Hébuterne. She really was everything Napoleons sad story tells. The painting: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/1b/HebuterneModigliani.jpg


	9. No fear

Napoleon enjoyed the scenery while Gaby drove along small coastal road. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something he should have noticed. But what was it? He watched Gaby who looked so calm behind the wheel. In the corner of his eye he could see the buttercups in the back seat. His brow furrowed. The buttercups were somehow related to it. He faced the road again and then he realized what it

“Wait a minute,” Napoleon said. “You said that there was picture of a rose in the program of Giselle and he took you there.”

“Yes,” Gaby said.

“Peril took you to see a ballet?” Napoleon asked. He couldn’t decide was he delighted and shocked or just shock.

“Yes,” Gaby said.

“You were on a date?” Napoleon asked.

”No, it wasn’t a date,” Gaby said. “It was research.”

“Research for what?” Napoleon asked interested.

“You can wipe that grin of your face,” Gaby said smiling. “Nothing like that. I just haven’t seen ballet in a long time, not since I was a kid. So I thought that I should maybe see at least the one I said I was dancing in case somebody introduces me as a ballerina again,” Gaby explained. “So really it’s your fault.”

“So you suggested the ballet?” Napoleon asked.

“No,” Gaby said. ”I said roughly those same things to Illya and about month later he suggested it.”

“Peril asked you to go to ballet with him?” Napoleon confirmed.

“No, he really didn’t ask,” Gaby said. She was sticking to her claim that it wasn’t a date. “He told me that The Royal Opera House was doing Giselle and maybe I should see it now, before you introduce me as a ballerina again because apparently my knowledge of ballet as somebody who had danced it once was, and this is a direct quote; inadequate and shameful.”

“That does sound like Peril,” Napoleon nodded. “So instead of asking you out, he insulted you?”

“Well… yes,” Gaby answered.

“And you still went?” Napoleon laughed.

”He was right,” Gaby pointed out.

“But it wasn’t a date,” Napoleon said.

“Nope,” Gaby said and sped past the car in front of them. She hated driving slowly because of others.

“Did you eat?” Napoleon asked.

“When? After the ballet?” Gaby asked like she had already forgotten what they were talking about. “Yes. We need to eat, that is how we stay alive.”

Napoleon nodded approvingly. He looked the scenery a while and asked then: “Did you talk?”

Gaby frowned. “Of course we did. Did you think we would just be sitting quietly the whole time?”

”In all fairness, you do that sometimes,” Napoleon pointed out. “What were you talking about? Weather? How the waiter was slow?”

Gaby laughed. ”You know very well that we were talking about how slow the waiter was.”

“I think the world would be scary place if everybody was as efficient as Peril would want them to be,” Napoleon said.

Gaby drove faster in the curve than she really needed to and let the rented Citroën go further than Napoleon would have. She pulled the handbrake and made the car kick out in the curve. Then she stepped on the gas.

“If you are trying to get me forget about this conversation, you are wrong,” Napoleon said.

Gaby smiled. “We talked just about normal things. The ballet we just saw. I told him about the time I was still dancing and he talked about his mother.”

“Peril talked about his mother?” Napoleon repeated. “His mother who died? And who he never talks about and who no one can even mention?”

“Yes,” Gaby said.

“Have I understand this correctly; Peril took you to the ballet, you went for dinner and talked about personal and potentially emotional subjects,” Napoleon added up and Gaby frowned her brows because she knew what he was going to say next. “Explain to me how is that not a date?”

Gaby parked the car in the marina and huffed. “It just wasn’t, okay. You just have to believe me that I would know if I was in a date. And it wasn’t a date. It was a work… thing. Nothing else. So just drop it.”

Napoleon raised his brows to Gaby’s excuses and dropped the subject. But only because Gaby asked, not because he believed it.

Gaby removed her heels and stepped into the little rubber motorboat which they used to get in and to the sailboat that was anchored out deeper. She climbed along the rope ladder on aboard and Napoleon handed the groceries to her. She walked below the deck, dangling her heels on her hand.

Illya moved the headphones aside. “Did something happen? It took too long to you to get here.”

Gaby shook her head. “We stopped to buy some food, nothing more,” she said. “Napoleon wanted to cook something decent.” Gaby went to Illya and took the headphones from him. “I’ll take it from here. Go.”

“I can stay if you need to change your clothes or something,” Illya said.

Gaby kept the headphones out of Illya´s reach. “Go out,” she ordered smiling.

Illya stood up. Gaby held her breath for a while. For some reason she sometimes forgot how tall he was. And then Illya only had to stand up next to her and she remembered. She had to look up to him.

“Go,” Gaby almost whispered. She needed Illya to go before she just pressed herself against him. And he went, climbed the stairs up to the sunny deck.

Gaby pulled the cord of the headphones off the listening device and the not so interesting sound of somebody reading a paper came out of the speakers. She pulled the whole device away from the wall, yanked the plugs out and picked the heavy equipment up. She managed to carry it to the deck and put it down on the bench by the door. Then she returned to pick up the cords and gathered those up. Gaby turned the machine back on. It made a buzzing sound and Gaby hit it. The sound returned to normal.

“I do like when you adjust the equipment,” Napoleon smirked

“Sometimes all it need is a little punch,” Gaby said.

“Now does that apply in every situation?” Napoleon asked.

Gaby decided to not answer and adjust the radio more. She turned the volume up and then poked it until the sound was as clear as it could be. The only thing that she was hearing was the distant sound of paper turning.

“That is not regulation,” Illya said and was obviously trying to suppress the urge to carry the equipment back below the deck and do things properly.

“Let’s do things like regulations says tomorrow,” Gaby asked. “You have been inside for hours to listening either nothing or me and Napoleon. Let’s rebel a bit. They are just fighting about orange juice anyway. So let’s just relax for a while. Napoleon will cook and we’ll have a few bottles of wine. Let’s be in the sun today.”

Illya looked like he was considering Gaby’s suggestion. He could see that it was already decided, because Napoleon had brought the grill on the deck and was looking at the tongs against the sun.

“Fine,” Illya said finally. It’s not like he wanted to sit in the dark with the headphones on. Much rather he was in the fresh air and watching Gaby hit the equipment. It was her first step to fixing something. She only studied the problem more closely if the hit didn’t help. And usually it did. Illya returned below the deck and changed to his swimming trunks.

Gaby helped Napoleon with the food. She was like a nurse handing things over. She handed the sweet peppers and watched when Illya walked across the deck and threw his towel on the boat’s railing. He had managed to get some color and looked healthy and strong. His muscles were moving under his skin when he stretched his shoulders. His back was broad and Gaby felt again like going to him and just pressing against it. She could imagine how warm he must be. Gaby’s gaze slide along Illya´s back, down to his buttocks and thighs. Illya turned sideways and Gaby held her breath. Suddenly her head was full of pictures and sounds and smells. It was full of desire which pumped through her blood. It made her insides throb and heart race.

Napoleon coughed and Gaby turned her head quickly. She realized that she was still holding her breath and biting her lower lip so hard it hurt.

“Are you going to give me the peppers?” Napoleon asked and grinned, but didn’t tease Gaby any more.

“I’m going to change my clothes,” Gaby said as if talking suddenly had become very hard and escaped below deck. She pushed the accordion door forcefully closed even though she was alone. She sat the narrow bench and didn’t mind that she was wrinkling all the clothes lying there. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply a few times but the feeling didn’t disappear. She lifted her hand against her chest and could feel her heart pounding. Behind her closed eyes she could still see Illya. His broad shoulders and chest. She could see her own hands against his shoulders. Her thighs pressing into his hips. His lips kissing her neck. Her fingers digging in to his back and his hands on her hips. Gaby opened her eyes wide-open. No, she couldn’t just do this now. It wasn’t even Gaby who had made this happen. It was Napoleon and the way he was asking about the ballet and flowers, and filled her mind with all these images. And then he hadn’t even mocked her even though it was so obvious that she was staring at Illya. It was lucky that that was all she had done.

Gaby stood up. She was handling this. She took off her heavy earrings and the pins in her hair. She opened the zipper of her dress and wiggled out of it. She grabbed a light top of the bench and started buttoning it. She was looking down and all she had to do was to close her eyes just little bit more and all the images were there again. Her fingers didn’t manage the buttons. Her hands were numb and heavy, and she really didn’t want to close the buttons anyway. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Gaby let her hands slide down, over her breasts and stomach. She leaned her forehead against the wall in the tiny room. She lifted her other knee on the bench and pressed her left hand against the wall. Her right hand slid along her thigh and hip and stopped at the elastic on her underwear. The images in Gaby’s head weren’t whole pictures anymore. There was just skin against skin, limbs, grabbing hands, open lips and the hot throbbing. Gaby slid her hand into her underwear and bit her lower lip. The movements of her fingertips made her breathing heavy. She just let the images flash in front of her. Gaby´s nails pressed on the wood paneling on the wall. She couldn’t stop the soft sighs. The images just changed inside her closed eyelids. He bit her shoulder, she arched her back, his hands grabbed her hips so hard that it hurt. Gaby bit her lip again. She tried to be as quiet as she could but when her body finally released all the hot pressure she let out a soft moan and long trembling exhale. A warm wave floated through her hips and after few panting breaths she had to turn around and sit down. Her legs were like well cooked spaghetti.

Gaby sat there awhile, collecting the strength that had just dissolved somewhere. Slowly she opened her eyes again. Finally she buttoned her top. She yanked a pair of yellow sorts out from under her and put those on. Her legs were still shaky when she stood up, struggled to open the door and walked up to the sun.

“Do you need help?” Gaby asked Napoleon even though she just wanted to sit down.

“Are you okay?” Napoleon asked and tilted his head. ”Your cheeks are all red.”

Gaby touched her hot cheek. “It’s just the warm air,” she said.

Napoleon nodded. ”I’ll manage just fine,” he said and pointed with his knife at the wine glass that was waiting for her.

Gaby took the wine and went to sit behind the sail, on top of the life vest bench. She sipped her wine and let the sun shine on her skin. She leaned back against the mast and her body was heavy and relaxed. She closed her eyes against the sun. The images were gone and she only saw the sunbeams through her own eyelids. Then the boat rocket a little when Illya pulled himself up from the sea.

Illya grabbed his towel and dried himself. He threw the towel on his shoulders and walk over to Gaby. The girl was leaning against the mast her eyes closed. She had lifted her legs in the bench, her ankles were crossed. It was easier to watch Gaby what she couldn’t see. Her white sleeveless shirt was emphasizing her tan and her yellow shorts revealed her beautiful legs. Gaby’s cheeks were red like the apples he had once juggled for her and wind was waving her bangs. Illya sat next to her.

“Were there any sharks?” Gaby asked smiling.

“No,” Illya said. Gaby didn’t open her eyes and he kept looking her face. “Why sharks?” He asked. ”Why are you scared of them? Have you ever seen a shark?”

“No,” Gaby confessed. “I don’t know. They sound scary. All big fish sound scary.” Gaby frowned. “The sea is scary.”

“Well it was refreshing,” Illya said. ”Are you sure you don’t want to try?”

“Yes,” Gaby said and smiled. She felt cool water drops hitting her ankles.

“I am getting you wet,” Illya said.

Gaby was happy that her cheeks were still red and hot. Otherwise she would have blushed and even Illya would understand what he had said and why she had blushed.

Gaby’s closed eyes made Illya brave towards her and he wiped the drops off her ankle. Gaby felt Illya's soft touch. He was thorough and took his time. But Gaby didn't mind, she was happy for every second. She didn’t even notice that she made a little sigh. But Illya noticed. He didn’t lift his hand away, he just let it rest there.

“What is Cowboy cooking?” Illya asked.

“Veal and vegetables,” Gaby said.

“He hums when he cooks,” Illya said looking at Napoleon.

“I know,” Gaby said smiling. “And when he takes spatula or ladle out of pan, he always –

“Taps it against the pot three times,” Illya finished the sentence and watched when Gaby laughed.

“But the food is worth it,” Gaby said.

Illya agreed. He watched his own fingers move against Gaby’s ankles. His thumb brushed bottom of her feet.

“Tickles,” Gaby said and her leg twitched.

“Sorry,” Illya muttered and remove his hand.

“Don’t stop,” Gaby said quickly. “Just don’t tickle.”

Illya´s hand returned on Gaby’s ankle. He let his hand slide higher on Gaby’s leg. He lifted his index and middle fingers up and walked those along Gaby’s leg. Illya smiled because he made Gaby smile. Then she bit her lower lip. Illya pressed his palm on her skin. It would have been so easy just grab her leg harder and pull her into his arms. He could bite Gaby’s lower lip on her behalf.

“Gaby, could you fetch the dishes?” Napoleon yelled.

Illya removed his hand. He knew Gaby would open her eyes. And only because of Gaby’s closed eyes had he dared to take a step closer. But Gaby would open her eyes Illya knew his courage would be gone. It felt ridiculous. Illya didn’t fear anything. He didn’t have to, he was the one people feared. But with Gaby it was the other way around. Gaby didn’t fear him. She hadn’t ever looked at him with fear in her eyes. Not even when he was so angry that he was literally seeing red. Even then he had seen Gaby’s eyes, and through the red mist, she had looked straight through the anger and directly into his soul. Her face had been tight and her brows drawn. Her hands had been pressed against his neck and cheeks and she had been talking to him. What about, Illya couldn’t say. In that moment he had heard her, but afterwards the words disappeared. But he remembered Gaby’s face. She was strong and most likely telling him to take control of himself. Illya could remember how Gaby’s nails had been burrowing in his skin and later he could still see the little half-moons that they have left behind after she had already let go. And Illya could remember Gaby’s eyes. They had been so steady and determined. There had been no fear. Illya had been in a state in which he had killed grown men with his bare hands, a state that people could usually sense and run away from. And even then Gaby didn’t fear. She had stepped in his path, touched him, talked him and made him take control of the anger and calm himself down. It had happened a few times. But not in months, not anymore. And Illya knew what Gaby’s fear looked like. He had seen it burn in her eyes, but never because of him. And to Illya, that was scary. He couldn’t understand why somebody wouldn’t fear him. It didn’t make sense.

Gaby looked at Illya and somehow he looked guilty. Gaby wanted to tell him that she had liked when he touched her, but she knew that it would make Illya more uncomfortable. She didn’t want to push. She gave Illya time to do things at his own pace so she didn’t say anything, but she leaned closer and touched Illya´s hair that the towel had ruffled up. She combed it with her fingers the way she knew he liked it. Then she stood up and walked with light steps below the deck. When she came back she laid a small table on the deck. Napoleon fetched a small FM radio from the sleeping quarters. It rattled and even Gaby’s fine-tuning didn’t make the music clear. Illya protested because they might miss something that the marks would be saying. Napoleon said that in his opinion Illya should sometimes break little rules. Illya didn’t say anything, but he looked Gaby in the other side of the table. She leaned her cheek in her palm and laughed to something Cowboy had just said. Illya felt like he was already breaking the rules.

Food was good, air was warm and sunset painted Gaby’s skin orange. Illya didn’t protest anymore. Napoleon found a station which played Spanish music. He pulled Gaby up and spun her few times on the deck. Illya knew he had no reason to be jealous, but still he was. Cowboy just pulled Gaby up and in his arms. He was jealous because of Gaby’s laugh, the way she touched his shoulder and the way his hand was around her waist. Gaby wasn’t Illya´s but still he would have wanted to be the only one who could touch her waist and pull her close.

“Come on,” Gaby asked smiling and grabbed Illya´s hand. “I need a partner.”

“I do not dance,” Illya said.

“I know,” Gaby laughed. “Come anyway. You know you don’t have a choice. If this turns to wrestling you know I can beat you.”

“You surprised me,” Illya said.

“How many times you have won against somebody who had surprised you?” Gaby asked with a clever grin on her face. “Many times I’m sure.”

“Yes,” Illya said and corners of his mouth twitched a bit.

“Strong men?”

“Yes.”

“And yet you didn’t win against me,” Gaby pointed out.

“I let you win,” Illya said.

“And now I’m letting you to dance with me,” Gaby said and pulled Illya´s arm. “Come on, just a bit. You don’t have to do almost anything.”

Illya followed Gaby because he knew she was stubborn and wasn’t letting this go. Last sunbeams were flickering on the horizon. Napoleon was lighting the lanterns. Music was rattling. Gaby pulled Illya away from the table. She lifted his hand and twirl under it.

”Look, you are almost dancing,” Gaby said smiling.

Illya wasn’t really dancing, but he let Gaby think so. After a while he offered to fill her wine glass and Gaby didn’t drag him around the deck anymore. Instead she just sat next to him by the table, her knees brushed against his from time to time. She talked and laughed and the light of the lanterns was shining in her brown eyes.


	10. A familiar cardigan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picture to go with the story: [Moscow, August](http://edenforest.tumblr.com/post/142968022650/getting-to-know-you-getting-to-know-all-about-you)

The walls were grey, the floor was grey and the ceiling was grey. Just grey concrete everywhere. Gaby felt like it was a place that sucked the life out of people. She couldn’t understand why anyone would choose to live in a place like this. She glanced at Illya and wondered, did he actually choose this? She didn’t think so.

“Cheerful place,” Napoleon said.

Gaby just huffed. She didn’t even feel like making jokes.

“There are plenty of rooms,” Illya said. “Choose whichever you like.” He opened the nearest door and Gaby peeked in. It was a grey concrete block, just like everything else. There was a narrow bed, bed-side table and an air vent by the ceiling, nothing else.

“Cozy,” Gaby sighed.

“It doesn’t need to be cozy,” Illya said, a little annoyed. He wasn’t annoyed at Gaby just at the situation. He really didn’t want Gaby to see this place, because he knew that she would hate it. Then she would look at him with those eyes of hers and he would see pity, and he didn’t want that from Gaby.

“Are they all like this?” Gaby asked.

“Yes,” Illya said.

Gaby entered the room. She didn’t need to see more. If they all were as gloomy as this, she could just stay in this one. She threw her bag on the bed and heard Napoleon opening the next door along. Illya was closing her door and Gaby turned quickly to him.

“Don’t close the door,” she asked. “It feels like a prison cell already.” She could see Illya nod quickly and then leave. Gaby sat on the bed, the springs squeaked. The mattress wasn’t really soft and the blanket was made of scratchy wool. Gaby stood up and walked away. She didn’t want to spend any more time in that cell than was necessary. She returned to the hall and found a door to the dining hall. There were three long tables and benches around them. She went through the swinging door to the kitchen. Even there, everything was grey. Gaby walked back to the hall and stepped into some kind of a living room. There was a couch, two armchairs, coffee table, bookcase with about twenty books and record player in the side table. Gaby went closer and picked up the record on top. Tchaikovsky. She was sure that Illya had brought the player and the records. At least so he could listen to some music here. Gaby sat on the hard couch.

She wasn’t quite sure where they were. In her mind it was still Moscow, but they couldn’t be there anymore. They had climbed into the car in Moscow but after three hours Gaby had lost all interest in where they were. The next two hours didn’t bring her interest back. Russia made her anxious. For some reason she feared, all the time, that somebody was going to catch her and she would be sent back to East Germany or Siberia or somewhere. When they finally stopped, they were somewhere hours from civilization, at the edge of a forest and a field; the middle of nowhere. In the distance Gaby could see an apple orchard. Even that didn’t look friendly. The trees were old and gnarly. There were not many leaves on them and they looked unpleasant and scary. The forest was dark and there was beard moss growing on the trees. It looked like a place where wolves and trolls and murderers would live. And then there was a small grey concrete box with a door on it.

“I don’t understand,” Gaby said. “I thought there was going to be a whole base. Did you give me the wrong directions?”

“I think it might be a bunker,” Napoleon said and watched Gaby’s face turn to a frown.

“I was thinking that this couldn’t be more depressing, but I was wrong. It’s underground? Like a tomb?”

Then the door opened and Illya stepped out. Gaby felt her stomach flip a bit. She closed the car door and grabbed her bag. She was actually nervous. She felt, lately, like they had seen each other less than ever, even after becoming a team. When she walked toward Illya she noticed that she had missed him. Not just being a whole team, but just Illya. She had missed his short sentences and frowning brows, the way he said “Yes” like a question.

”You drove an hour faster than people normally do,” Illya said and kept the door from closing.

“Are you really surprised?” Napoleon asked.

Illya looked at Gaby who walked past him into the stairway. “No.” He could just imagine how fast she had been driving after they got out of the city.

Gaby walked carefully down the steep stairs. Her shoes clanged against the metal steps. It was a bunker, just as Napoleon hade suspected. She had expected something low, cramped and dark, but the ceiling was high and there were fluorescent lights all across it. There was big open hall space right at the bottom of the stairs and in front of her were two identical corridors, one on her left and right sides and between those was a door to a darkened room and a door to a room where Gaby could see a green couch.

“Kitchen, living room,” Illya said and pointed efficiently. “The bedrooms are in the left corridor.”

Gaby stood up from the couch and climbed back upstairs to the outside. The air was warm and only then she noticed how chilly it was down in the bunker. She was sure she was going to be freezing during the night. Gaby went to the car and opened the trunk. She turned the radio on and adjusted it. She picked up the microphone and waited to get response.

“Gaby Teller,” she said and waited again when she was been connected to the right people.

“Gaby, have you arrived?” Waverly’s familiar voice asked.

“Yes,” Gaby said. “Apparently a hour sooner than most.”

“Excellent,” Waverly said. “Have you already been to the archives?”

“No, not yet,” Gaby told. “Or maybe Illya has, I don’t know. It’s almost seven pm here, so we are probably going to wait ‘til morning. It’s been a long day of traveling.”

“Yes, maybe that’s better,” Waverly agreed. “Let me know tomorrow how much and what kind of material there is.”

“Of course,” Gaby said.

“And… what about Kuryakin?” Waverly asked. “He missed a few operations during the summer. How does he seem?”

“Just normal, like he usually is,” Gaby said the truth and her lips turned to a little smile. “Familiar.”

“Familiar?” Waverly repeated.

Gaby straightened her back and pulled herself together. ”He seems normal,” she assured professionally.

“That’s good,” Waverly said.

”I will make contact again tomorrow,” Gaby said and ended the connection. She leaned for a while on the back of the car, before closing the trunk and heading back to the bunker. If Illya had survived here months, she would survive a few days.

She stood in the hall. Her bedroom door was still open, so was Napoleon’s. Then she noticed that the right side corridor had one door just slightly ajar. Gaby walked over and peeped in. There wasn’t anybody there so she stepped inside. It was the only room where there were signs of life. The bed was wide and looked much more comfortable than the others. There was proper bedding, desk, bookcase, wooden wardrobe and an armchair. There were books in the bookcase and papers on the desk. Gaby picked up a few papers. She didn’t read them, but she recognized Illya´s handwriting. The walls were same grey as everywhere else, but there were a few paintings there, to bring some colour and on the floor was big rug. Hanging on the chair’s armrest was dark green cardigan. Gaby picked it up and glanced to the door. Nobody was coming so she pressed her nose against it and took a deep breath. She could smell wool and Illya and that made her sigh. She threw the cardigan over her shoulders because her arms in her short-sleeved blouse were already chilly. Then she went to the bookcase and just touched things.

“Have you found anything incriminating?” Illya asked and scared Gaby.

“Did you sneak in deliberately so that you could see if I was snooping?” Gaby asked and raised her brows.

“Maybe,” Illya confessed and sat on his bed to watch Gaby.

“Well, you were early,” Gaby said with a hint of smile. “I didn’t have chance to open any drawers yet.”

Illya smiled back at her. He had missed her. He had missed her curiosity, her smile and kind eyes. Even Gaby’s stubbornness. She was walking slowly here and there and looking things. His cardigan was hanging on her shoulders. It was so long that it covered her back all the way to her thighs. Illya could have lied to himself and said he didn’t remember when the last time he had seen Gaby was, but he knew. It was two months and two days ago and it was the longest that they had been apart since meeting each other. And now Gaby was there, moving her fingers against his desk and leaving her scent in his cardigan.

“Did this room belong to somebody important?” Gaby asked. “It’s bigger than the ones in the other corridor. And there is a decent bed.”

Illya nodded. ”Probably the commander,” he said. “There are a few other bigger rooms, but those are empty.”

“Has this place been abandoned for long?” Gaby asked.

“There has not been any activity since the war,” Illya said. “Just the archives.”

“Have you already looked at those?” Gaby asked, very professional.

“Just glanced,” Illya said. ”I only got the keys yesterday.”

Gaby nodded and look Illya instead his books. “It must be lonely here.”

Illya shrugged his shoulders. “Peaceful.”

“Well I think is lonely here,” Gaby sighed and went to sit next to Illya.

“I am not always here,” Illya reminded. “I see people in Moscow. And you two of course.”

“Not that much lately,” Gaby said. “Feels like KGB needs you all the time.”

“I cannot control that,” Illya said.

“I know,” Gaby sighed. “I didn’t mean that it was your fault. It’s just weird. And it’s easier when there are three of us. Everything works more smoothly and there’s swing vote. When it’s just me and Napoleon and we disagree on something it just turns into an argument.”

Illya didn’t know what to say. He felt like defending his agency, but then he really didn’t want to. “It is not that bad here,” he finally said. “There is lots of room to breathe. There is the forest.”

”It looks like there are wolves in there,” Gaby said and stood up to walk around the room again.

“And orchard,” Illya continued.

“The trees look like dead people’s hands,” Gaby huffed and read the names of the books.

“Of course,” Illya said and notice he was smiling a bit. “And the bunker?”

“Like a tomb,” Gaby said.

“Is there anything you like in here?” Illya asked.

“You,” Gaby said without looking away from the books. Her tone was light and easy, it came out of her so naturally.

“Really,” Illya said.

Gaby turned her face to Illya. ”If you weren’t here, I would have looked this place through and said to Napoleon, that I am leaving now and he can come with me or stay by himself. You are the only reason I didn’t inform Waverly that I was going to be leaving immediately and that he could find some other team to do this job.”

Illya nodded. “In that case, I am sorry that you have to stay because of me,” he said and felt lighter than he had in weeks.

Gaby shrugged her shoulders. “What can you do?”

“I will try to make this up to you,” Illya promised.

“You better,” Gaby said seriously even though her mouth was trying to smile. She wandered back to Illya and lifted her hand on his shoulder, leaned closer and pressed quick but soft kiss on his temple. Then she just stayed there for a while, cheek against her kiss, her eyes closed and hoped that Illya wouldn’t think she was completely mad.

Illya closed his eyes when Gaby’s kiss pressed on his temple. He felt like her cheek sealed it in, so it couldn’t fade away from his skin. He lifted his hand to touch Gaby’s leg that was right next to his. It felt like a hug. When Gaby stepped back, her warmth disappeared off his temple and the kiss faded away. Illya watched Gaby walk over his desk and twiddle his gun. Then she picked it up.

“Makarov PM. It is new,” Illya told. “It is smaller than my other one. I think it will suit you better.”

“It’s still quite big,” Gaby said and aimed at the wall to see how much it weighed.

“Have you been practicing with your left hand?” Illya asked.

“Yes,” Gaby said. But she knew she hadn’t been practicing enough.

“Good,” Illya said. “Show me.”

Illya led Gaby behind the bunker by the edge of the forest. He told Gaby to stay and walked further by himself. He lifted cans that were lying on the ground and arranged them over a tree trunk. Then he returned to Gaby.

“It’s getting dark,” Gaby said.

“It should not be a problem,” Illya said. “Just shoot normally.”

Gaby lifted the gun and aimed. She shot six times quickly and hit six cans. She made a little pleased hum.

“Just one hand now,” Illya told.

Gaby lifted her right hand and aimed again. She shot three times and hit can with every one of them. Then she turned when she heard somebody coming.

“Could we make a rule, that if anyone wants to shoot just for fun, they would inform others before doing so,” Napoleon suggested. He was carrying gun in his hand.

“Sorry,” Gaby said.

”Now left,” Illya told her.

Gaby switched the gun in her other hand and aimed. Insecurity struck her immediately. She was sure she would fail when Illya was watching. She also knew that the insecurity was the thing that would make her miss the target, not her skills. She shot only once. The bullet buried somewhere in the field and the cans stayed still. Gaby took deep breath and aimed again. She shot and missed. She gritted her teeth together and aimed third time just to miss again.

“You will not hit when you are frustrated,” Illya said.

“Well you shoot if you are so good at it,” Gaby said. She regretted her tone, it wasn’t Illya´s fault that she was missing the target.

Illya took the gun Gaby was offering and aimed. He shot three times and hit three cans.

“It’s your gun,” Gaby said. “You are used to it.”

Illya offered the gun to Napoleon. “Cowboy.”

Napoleon took the gun and shot three cans down with his left hand. Gaby turned her head away and rolled her eyes in secret.

“Try again,” Illya told her and Napoleon gave the gun to Gaby.

Gaby lifted the gun and aimed.

“Remember that it is not your right hand. Do not do the same movements. And do not hold your breath. You do that when you get frustrated. Breath normally, shoot while breathing out.”

Gaby closed her eyes and tried to empty her mind. She knew all the things Illya was saying. She just struggled to use it. She opened her eyes again and aimed. She took few breaths and shot then three times and hit two cans.

“Good,” Illya said. “Put your arm down.”

Gaby did what Illya said. She usually did. Napoleon had noticed that regardless of being a very stubborn person, Gaby took orders from Illya, very well.

“The first shot is the one you do not hit,” Illya explained. “But you need to. Sometimes you can only have one bullet or one chance.” Illya walked closer to Gaby and she was looking him. “You have to calm yourself first, look where you are shooting, imagine the hit. Only then you aim.”

Gaby nodded. She turned her eyes back to the cans. She chose her can and did everything Illya had told her to do. Then she lifted her hand, aimed and hit the can. She made another small, very non-agent like hum.

“You are starting to improve,” Napoleon said.

“Of course she is,” Illya said. “I trained her.”

“I do recall that I did my part of the training,” Napoleon said.

“You just confused her with your advice,” Illya accused.

“I think you were the one confusing her by saying she should forget everything I was saying,” Napoleon pointed out.

“You were training her wrong,” Illya said frowning.

“Hey!” Gaby interrupted them. ”What are you doing? I hope you are not seriously fighting about who trained me better because it was a miracle that I was learning anything at all when you two were just accusing one another of using the wrong training methods.”

Napoleon grinned. It was true that the both of them were trying to train her but Gaby had eventually gotten frustrated. Napoleon had noticed that he wasn’t very patient teacher. He told her what to do and showed her, but then just got bored if Gaby didn’t pick it up immediately. He was an impatient teacher and Gaby was an impatient student. It really wasn’t working between them. But Illya was unexpectedly very patient teacher. Napoleon didn’t know if it was just because of Gaby, but Illya was patient nonetheless. When Gaby got frustrated he never just lost his temper and told her to be better. He showed Gaby how she should hold her gun and fixed her posture, lifted her arm, pushed her leg forwards and straightened her back. Napoleon was quite sure that all of the corrections weren’t strictly necessary and Illya made them just so he could touch Gaby. But his training was still working and Gaby didn’t seem to mind, so Napoleon didn’t mention it. He knew that it was really Illya who had trained Gaby to shoot, with her right and left hand. And when Gaby had shot the last can down, he could see Illya smiling. Illya smiled at Gaby relatively often, more often than at anybody else, but this time there was also a trainer´s pride in his smile.


	11. Bread and blood

Gaby crawled up from the bed to pick up Illya´s cardigan on top of her bag. She wrapped it around her and went back to bed, still shivering. It was cold and Gaby was sure there was frost in the air. On top of that the mattress was hard and lumpy, and the pipes were making weird noises. The whole room felt like prison cell. Everything was annoying her. She tried one last time. Gaby closed her eyes and emptied her mind. She relaxed her body and acted much like before when she was preparing to shoot. But then the scratchy blanket tickled her feet and Gaby kicked it off of her. She crawled back up frustrated and went to search for the flashlight from her bag. She opened the door quietly. The last thing she wanted was Napoleon to hear her.

Gaby sneaked along the corridor as quietly as she could and across the hall. The concrete floor under her toes was cold. She stopped at Illya´s door, opened it and listened a little while.

“Illya,” she whispered.

“Are you already cold?” Illya asked quietly. He sounded almost normal, but Gaby could hear that she had woken him up.

Gaby crept in the room and closed the door behind her. “This place is like a fridge.”

Illya made a little sniff, which Gaby assumed to be a smile. He reached over and pulled back the blanket from the empty side of the bed. She turned the flashlight off and put it on the bookcase. In the dark she climbed into Illya’s bed. Her feet touched his legs and he twitched.

“Your toes are like icicles,” Illya muttered.

“Sorry,” Gaby whispered.

Illya grunted a little and Gaby wasn’t sure if it meant that she should keep her toes far away from him or was he sorry that she was cold. When Gaby found comfortable position, Illya pulled her feet closer and pressed his leg over them to warm them up. “Thank you,” Gaby whispered.

Illya´s eyes were already closed. He lifted his hand toward Gaby’s face and pressed it against her nose and cheek. He felt his way to her lips and pressed his index finger against it. “Sleep,” he muttered.

Gaby smiled and pushed Illya´s hand off her face. She let it stay next to her on her pillow, but she didn’t press her cheek against it even if she wanted to. She was just happy to be in the same room after a long time. She woke up when Illya did and his hand slid away from her hand. Illya looked her and yanked the sleeve of his cardigan.

“How can you be cold when you are wearing that?” he asked.

Gaby crawled out of the bed and shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. Maybe I was frog in another life.”

Illya smiled at Gaby’s answer and let her sneak out of the room. Gaby walked across the hall. When Napoleon’s door opened she huffed to herself. Napoleon grinned at Gaby when he saw her and leaned on his door.

”Did you sleep well?” he smirked. “Or at all?”

”I slept just fine,” Gaby said nobly. “I was just cold. That’s all.”

“You didn’t have to go all the way to the other side,” Napoleon said smiling. “We are a team, I would have kept you warm.”

Gaby smiled. ”I’m sure you would. But your bed isn’t wide enough for two people to lie side by side,” she pointed out.

“Oh, I have perfect solution of that,” Napoleon assured and winked his eye.

Gaby shook her head smiling. She had no doubt that Napoleon would keep her nice and warm, for one night. But that really wasn’t what either one of them wanted. Gaby was sure it would be fun, but really not worth it in the long run. She stepped inside to fetch her towel and soap and returned to the corridor.

“Do you know where we can wash here?” She asked.

“Just looking myself,” Napoleon said and opened a random door. ”More grey rooms.” After few door he found the bathroom.

Gaby followed him and peeked in the room. The tiles were white and there was a whole row of showers on each side of the room. There were metal partitions between the showerheads; the edges of which were corroded and stained, and from every faucet there ran a thin, rusty-orange line to every drain.

“Have you got your shots?” Napoleon grinned.

“Yes,” Gaby said but felt like she could benefit from a few more. Still she stepped into the room. It was only a shower. So it looked like there may have been group executions there and the lost souls were still wandering the tile. Even one of the fluorescent lights was flickering. But it was still just a shower room. She went to the last cubicle and hung her towel on the hook on the wall. She stripped down and threw her clothes on the floor. Then she pressed against the cold wall before turning the water on. Her skin went in goosebumps the second she touched the tiles. The shower took its time. First it spit and then the water bursting out was orange with rust. It cleared out finally and started turning warm and then hot. Gaby just stood under the running water and let it pour over her shoulders and back. As she soaped up, she heard Napoleon whistling in his shower cubicle. After washing herself Gaby turned the water off and wrapped the towel around herself. It was clean but it smelled like her bag. She dried her hair and listened to Napoleon’s whistling. When he stopped and his shower turned off, she spoke.

“I promised Waverly to notify him today about what we find in the archives,” she said.

“Makes you wonder what there is to find,” Napoleon said. “I mean, any pencil pusher could go through an archive.”

Gaby nodded even if Napoleon couldn’t see it. She wrapped the towel tighter and stepped away from the cubicle. She leaned against the back wall and saw Napoleon stepping out of his cubicle towel around his waist. He opened the shower room door to let all the steam out. Then he leaned against the wall facing her.

“I had a bad feeling about this,” Gaby said quietly. ”I feel like we are going to find something horrible.”

Napoleon nodded but didn’t say anything.

“Cowboy,” Illya´s voice echoed in the corridor.

“In here,” Napoleon answered.

They could hear Illya´s footsteps but he stopped before entering the room. “Are you decent?”

”Am I ever?” Napoleon grinned.

Gaby rolled her eyes to him. Illya peeked in and noticed first Gaby who was leaning the back wall. Only then he saw Napoleon. His brows furrowed.

“Did you take a shower together?” he asked tightly. His finger began to tap against his thigh as he tried to control himself.

Napoleon lifted his palms up as a sign of peace. “I didn’t peek. We have a deal.”

“Deal?” Illya repeated.

“I don’t spy on her,” Napoleon said. ”And she doesn’t stab me in the face.”

Illya clearly wasn’t sure if Cowboy was making a joke or not.

Gaby pushed herself off the wall, gathered her clothes, and walked across the shower room. “I invented that deal,” she said with a little smile on her lips and walked past Napoleon and Illya and left row of wet footprint on the concrete floor of the corridor.

“I don’t think Peril doubted that.” Napoleon said after Gaby. “Why would I choose that kind of a punishment?”

“You do this often?” Illya asked more unhappy then angry.

“Come on, Peril,” Napoleon laughed little. “You really think that Gaby and I shower together regularly? There was plenty of space. She was at the other end of the room. And as you can see,” he said and patted both of his cheeks, “no scars on my face. She can take care of herself. It was just convenient and efficient solution. Nothing more.”

Illya didn’t say anything. His hand didn’t tap anymore, it didn’t even shake. He wasn’t angry, only jealous. He envied how effortless Napoleon was with Gaby. He laughed with her, touched her so easily and now apparently showered with her. Illya wouldn’t ever suggest showering at the same time as Gaby. He would let her go first. Maybe he was doing it wrong. Apparently Gaby didn’t have any problem with shared showers. Or at least nothing against sharing a shower with Napoleon.

”What was it you wanted?” Napoleon asked. ”Or was this just a ruse to get to see me without my shirt on?”

“What are you talking about?” Illya asked when he realized that Cowboy was talking to him.

“Just a ruse then,” Napoleon said. “Knew it.”

“What?” Illya asked with his brows frowned.

”Good talk,” Napoleon said and slapped Illya´s shoulder, walking past him and laughing to himself. He never missed the opportunity to fill Illya´s head with nonsense, if there was a chance.

Gaby had opened the hatch between the kitchen and the dining hall. She was frying eggs. She didn’t put any salt on them, everybody could salt their own eggs, but she watched them carefully and only burned a few. She was almost proud. Illya made the coffee, Gaby was cutting the bread, so when Napoleon came all there was left to do was to sit by the table and read the newspaper. Which was three days old.

They ate in silence. For a long time Napoleon had been uncomfortable with it. He felt like somebody should say something but then he had gotten used to it. Then he had noticed that Gaby and Illya weren’t really quiet. They didn’t talk of course, but there was still conversation happening. When Illya needed the cheese, he didn’t actually ask it, Gaby just moved it across the table at the right time. When Gaby looked at Illya, he always knew when to look back. And when Gaby cut more bread and the knife slipped on the hard crust, Napoleon was sure that Illya had begun to move closer just before the blade cut through Gaby’s skin.

Gaby let out a sharp gasp and dropped the knife. She squeezed her hand over the bleeding finger.

“Show me,” Illya said and Gaby opened her palm so he could see the cut. “There are bandages in the kitchen,” Illya said and guided Gaby through the swinging doors.

“Do you need help?” Napoleon asked. He didn’t stand up or prepare to leave. Gaby’s finger was obviously still attached and if Illya didn’t need him there to help, he really didn’t want to get in the way. This way, Illya had the perfect opportunity to take care of Gaby.

“No,” Illya said shortly.

“I know,” Napoleon muttered and continued reading his newspaper.

Illya gave Gaby a kitchen towel and pressed that against her finger while he found the bandages. She could feel her heartbeat throbbing in the wound. Illya took the first-aid box from the drawer and turned to Gaby.

“Put it under water so I can see how deep it is,” Illya said and guided Gaby’s hand towards the sink.

“I can fix this by myself,” Gaby said.

“But you don’t have to,” Illya said.

“It’s just a cut,” Gaby said. “I have had my share of cuts. Lots of slipped tools. Cuts in fingers are kind of my thing. I can manage just fine.”

Illya huffed at Gaby’s stubbornness. He just wanted to help and she made it so difficult. “Black forest gâteau,” Illya said.

“What?” Gaby asked.

”I guessed your favorite cake and won your agreement on situation of my choosing. Yes?” Illya said.

“Yes,” Gaby said.

“I choose now,” Illya said. “I need you to agree with me that I can help you.”

Gaby huffed, “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Illya said. “And so were you. You made a promise because of cake.”

Gaby knitted her brows, but let Illya turn her toward the sink and turn on the tap. Gaby put her hand under the running water and gritted her teeth. She washed the blood away from both of her hands and took the clean kitchen towel that Illya was offering to her. She pressed it against the wound.

“Come,” Illya said. When Gaby came, he lifted her by her waist to sit on the kitchen counter. “Let me see.”

Gaby let him lift the towel and peek at the wound. “It looks deep. Do you think it needs stitches?”

“No,” Illya said and pressed the towel back on her finger.

“Are you sure?” Gaby asked.

“It is not that deep,” Illya assured her and picked up things from the first aid kit. “I’d know if it needed stitches. Do you know how many times I have had stitches?

“Five times,” Gaby said and shrugged her shoulders.

Illya smiled to her. “Little more than that.”

“Well how many?” Gaby asked.

Illya returned to her with cotton swab and disinfectant. “Guess,” he muttered and pressed the alcohol soaked cotton ball without a warning against Gaby´s finger. Gaby didn’t make a peep, but her body twitched. “Sorry." Illya tried to be quick with the swab then pressed bandage to her finger.

Gaby relaxed her body when the stinging stopped. “What do I get if I guess?” She asked.

“Whatever you want,” Illya said and shrugged his shoulders. His eyes were on Gaby’s finger.

“Pretty bold,” Gaby said and smiled. “I could ask anything.”

Illya lifter his gaze to Gaby’s face and looked straight in to her eyes. “And then I would give it to you.”

Gaby felt like she were blushing. She hoped that Illya would look away before her cheeks could get any redder.

“Besides, first you have to guess correctly,” he said and looked back to the finger.

“One hundred and forty-nine,” Gaby guessed.

“Not that often,” Illya said gently and started wrapping more gauze around Gaby’s finger.

“Seventy,” Gaby said.

“No. Is this too tight?” Illya asked.

Gaby shook her head. She let Illya finish wrapping her finger. It was nice actually. Apart from the bleeding. Illya´s movements were firm, she could feel all the times he had used bandages before. He knew what he was doing.

Illya finished Gaby’s bandage and tied it off but he didn’t want to let her hand go just yet. When he had been just a boy and his mother had bound his wounds, she had always kissed the spot after she had finished. So Illya lifted Gaby’s hand and pressed his lips against her fingers and the fingertip that was peeking from under the wrapping.

Gaby bit her lip so she didn’t sigh. Illya´s kiss was unexpected and so gentle, Gaby could feel it all through her stomach and chest. It was the same warm feeling she felt every time Illya did something kind. He lifted his lips and looked her.

“All better,” Illya said.

Gaby didn’t know what so say. So instead she just lifted her hand and pressed it to the curve of Illya´s neck and shoulder. There was just the right place for her hand. She could feel the muscles on Illya´s neck moving. Then she realized what she was doing. She pulled her hand away and looked quickly through the hatch at Napoleon. Gaby was expecting to see him watching and grinning that knowing grin, but he was reading his newspaper. Still she pulled her fingers gently back from Illya´s hand. “Thank you,” she said.

Illya nodded a little and stepped away so she could slide down off the counter.

Napoleon rolled his eyes behind the newspaper. He had learned to be patient with Illya and Gaby. But sometimes, when it was so obvious that there was something between them and still they didn’t follow through, he wanted to hit their heads together.

“We should start with the archives,” Illya said as he came through the swinging door.

Napoleon and Gaby fallowed Illya along the middle corridor. He opened one of the doors and walked down another flight of stairs to a massive fire exit. There was one dim lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. Illya opened the heavy door and stepped in to turn on the lights.

Gaby stepped in only when the fluorescent lights stopped flickering. In the middle of the room was a wooden table and some chairs, and against the walls there were filing cabinets, one after another. Gaby didn’t bother counting. She went to the nearest one and tried to open it.

“The keys are on the table,” Illya said.

Gaby grabbed the keys and returned to the cabinet. She searched for the right one and got the cabinet open. She pulled out a random folder and flipped it through. Russian words just ran though her eyes.

Napoleon stood outside still. He could just close the door. He could just push it closed and lock the handle. He was sure that the locked door would speed things up between Gaby and Illya. He could just refuse to let them out before they were talking things through. It would be easy and possibly over in hours.

“Cowboy, are you coming?” Illya interrupted his thoughts.

Napoleon frowned. Of course they would get mad. But eventually even they have to see that it was better for them to move on than stay still.

“Cowboy,” Illya repeated.

Napoleon sighed. He really couldn’t just lock them in. There was always the possibility that they wouldn’t do anything just to spite of him. And he was the one who would have to explain to Waverly why his favorite starved to death in an ancient KGB archive. So he stepped in and took pile of folders and went to the table. He took a deep breath and wondered what they would find.

“Nothing,” Gaby said and threw the folder on the big pile on the floor. Illya had asked her to keep the pile in order, but that was four hours ago and Gaby didn’t care anymore. There were no reason to order when the folders were to be burnt anyway, if there wasn’t anything important inside.

“There’s nothing here,” she said. “Everything is garbage. Either its pages and pages of useless information, some route plans or inventory lists, or redacted. It’s all useless. Look at this,” she said and threw the folder she was holding on the table. “Everything is blackened. Not just some of the information, but everything. Every line. Why is this even here? This is not an archive, it’s a dump.”

”Maybe it is just that cabinet,” Illya said.

“No, it’s not,” Gaby said and pulled out folders from another cabinet. “It’s the same in all of these,” some of the papers dropped out of the folders and spread on the floor. “There is nothing here. So why would they send us? Is this a joke? And you,” Gaby huffed and pointed to Illya. ”You live here because of this archive, because they need somebody to keep an eye on it. There’s nothing to keep an eye on. Aren’t you curious why you are here?”

“Calm down,” Napoleon asked. “There’s an explanation.”

”Is there?” Gaby asked. ”I like to hear that.”

“Me too,” Napoleon muttered. It’s not like Gaby was the only one who had noticed that there wasn’t anything worth saving in this archive. And by the look of Illya´s face, he had noticed that too.

“I am going to ask,” Gaby decided. She dropped the folders on the floor and left the room, climbing the stairs to the corridor and then further to outside. The air was warm but the sky was as grey as the walls underground. She opened the trunk of her car and turned the radio on.

“Gaby Teller,” she said and had to wait for Waverly for over five minutes. In that time she managed to chew her other thumb nail short.

“Gaby,” Waverly said. “Any news.”

“There’s nothing here,” Gaby said frustrated.

“The archive is empty?” Waverly asked.

“No. There’s plenty of documents, but it is all rubbish. Everything is either ancient and useless or just blackened. There’s nothing here, so why are we?

“You weren’t supposed be there,” Waverly told. “You were supposed be in Bucharest. But then KGB needed Kuryakin there. So I sent another team to Bucharest, managed to get Kuryakin’s assignment under our name and then sent the whole team there.”

“You sent us here just to spite the KGB?” Gaby asked frowning.

“Is there really nothing there?” Waverly asked.

“No,” Gaby sighed and the situation started to unravel to her. “You sent us here to check the situation, didn’t you?”

Waverly sighed on the other end of the line. “The KGB has informed me, that they are pulling Kuryakin back. They feel like his loyalty to his county and agency has been compromised. If he isn’t needed in the archive we must wonder why the KGB has sent him there.”

“It’s a punishment,” Gaby said. “They didn’t send him to Siberia, they just isolated him here. That way they can just call him in whenever they need him.”

“Yes. So it appears,” Waverly said.

“Well, the KGB can’t be thrilled when you managed to send us here because of a loophole,” Gaby huffed.

“No,” Waverly said. “You have already got orders to leave the country.”

“How long?” Gaby asked and she felt like her eyes were tearing up.

“You had 72 hours. Now there’s about 44 left. Your flight leaves the day after tomorrow,” Waverly said.

“And then we just take off and leave Illya here because his bosses are mad?” Gaby asked angrily.

“We are trying to take the situation under control –“

“Are you?” Gaby asked frustrated. “Do you even care? Is it really that big of a deal to you if some KGB agent is pulled off duty? I’m sure you have another in line. Are the rest of use as expendable too?”

“Agent Teller, I would remind you that you are talking to your superior,” Waverly said firmly.

Gaby straightened her back and took a deep breath. “I´m sorry, sir. It is not my place to intervene in how the relationship between agencies is being handled.”

“I don’t like this anymore than you,” Waverly said. “But the truth is that we have very little power over this. It is KGB´s internal affair. Only Kuryakin can influence here and I don’t believe that even he can do much about it. It’s not like the relations have been that good between him and his superiors over the past few years.”

Gaby nodded. She closed her eyes and wiped quickly the tear that ran across her cheek.

“But we are doing all we can, Gaby,” Waverly said. “Kuryakin is an excellent agent, I´d hate to lose him.”

“I know,” Gaby said.

“Contact me in Moscow before your flight leaves,” Waverly asked.

“Yes, sir,” Gaby said and ended the connection. She closed the trunk and sat down on the dusty ground.


	12. The secret Coca-Cola

Gaby walked down the stairs. During her call to Waverly she had felt like crying, but now she felt only empty. If someone could shout inside of her, she would have echoed. She returned to the corridor and opened the door to the archive. But she was at the wrong door and in the wrong corridor. Gaby turned the light on, and looked where she was. There was a staircase, just like behind the door that led to the archive, but this was something else. She could smell dirt and damp ground. There was only one lightbulb giving light, but Gaby still walked down the stairs. It was a cellar. The floor under her feet was tightly packed dirt and on the walls were rough wooden shelves and crates. There was some carrots in one of the crates and potatoes in the other, but the potatoes were all sprouting. On one shelf there were a few jam jars. Gaby picked one up. Never had black cherry jam made her so sad. She was looking around so she could get something else to think about, but she could feel Illya even there. Gaby remembered her grandmother’s cellar in Berlin. There, behind the new preserves were what was left of the old ones that were left behind. Some of those had been there years. But in here there was nothing useless or old. Everything was neat and in order. She sat down on a wooden crate which made a clinking sound. She stood back up and opened it.

Even in her sadness, she could feel the smile rising on her lips. Gaby took one of the bottles inside the crate. “Illya Kuryakin, you better hope that Napoleon don’t find out about this,” she muttered to herself. Gaby looked at the bottle of cold Coca-Cola in her hand. She opened it against the crate and sat back down on it. She just sat in the dimly lit cellar and drank Illya´s secret Coca-Cola.

“So organized and neat,” Gaby sighed. “Except the potatoes. Your potatoes are sprouting.” Gaby looked the wood crate and stood up so she could go and inspect the vegetables. “Why is it that your potatoes are sprouting, Kuryakin?” Gaby asked. She bent down and pushed aside the potatoes on top. Maybe there was less sprouted in the bottom. Instead of more potatoes her hand hit a package which was wrapped in a brown paper bag. She picked it up and sat back down. It was quite obvious that if Illya was hiding something under the potatoes in the dark cellar, he didn’t want anybody to see it.

But Gaby decided to act selfishly. If she had found it, she could look inside it. So Gaby opened the paper bag and pulled out a cigar box. She opened it carefully. As soon as she saw what was inside, she knew what it was. And it made her close her eyes, press hand in her mouth and burst in to tears. It wasn’t some lonely tear she couldn’t just stop anymore, but it was a floodgate opening. Her whole body shook while her eyes poured. All that she was feeling was running through her. All the love, fear and almost unbearable sadness just made her tremble.

Gaby remembered the last time she had cried like that. It was three weeks after Istanbul. They were leaving Waverly’s office, when Illya gave her a package. It was about the size of a shoebox and wrapped in brown paper bag.

“What’s this?” Gaby asked.

“It is yours,” Illya said. Gaby was opening the bag, but Illya stopped her. “Wait until you are home.”

“Why?” Gaby asked suspiciously. ”Is it a bomb?”

“What?” Illya huffed. ”Of course not.”

“Is it a present?” Gaby asked and frowned. It felt weird to think that Illya would buy her presents.

“No,” Illya said.

“Why can’t I open this now?” Gaby asked.

“Do you have to be this stubborn?” Illya huffed. “Just wait until you are home.”

“Fine,” Gaby said and waited. She went home and made herself a cup of coffee. She put the package down on her new coffee table and sat on the floor to open it. It was a shoebox just like she had expected. Gaby really didn’t think Illya would give her bomb, but she still opened the box carefully. When Gaby saw what was in the box, her eyes filled with tears immediately. Illya had said that it was hers and Gaby had thought that it meant that it was for her. But Illya had meant that it was already hers. And it was. Her things. Her memories from her little apartment in East Berlin. Her jewelry box and her mothers and grandmothers jewelry. A little photo album and the framed pictures that were hanging on the bedroom wall. Those three books that she had gotten from her biological father and which had his inscription. The small music box where the little ballerina twirled. A few letters and her stupid childhood diary. A box full of diamonds from her past. Memories she had thought she would never see again. Yet there they still were, in her hands.

Illya had brought them to her. She knew he had gone through all her books just to find her diary and the one that her father had written on. He had gone through her drawers, because her music box had been in the bottom one. And instead of feeling herself invaded she felt cared for. Tears ran down her cheeks. All the faces of her loved ones she had lost. The pictures were everything she had left of them. And Illya had brought them back to her. Gaby cried. She cried for all those people in her pictures and the girl she had been. The girl who had danced ballet because of her grandmother and had no idea of all the difficulties lying ahead. She cried the life that she never had because of war and politics. It wasn’t just box full of memories. It was a whole life that never happened. It was sad and still so precious.

In the dimly lit cellar, Gaby was now holding very similar box. There was thin stack of photos, a little metal toy car, two rings, a gold locket and three medals. Gaby couldn’t help herself. She sobbed out loud the fact that she could lose that Illya, the one who held on to a little metal car. She didn’t know if she was going to see him ever again after she and Napoleon left Russia. And she didn’t even know what would happen to him. Was she the only one who would lose him, or would he disappear entirely?

She flipped thorough the photographs. There was one just of Illya which made her smile even if nothing else would have. His hair was all messed up and he was smiling a wide smile. His left front tooth wasn’t yet fully grown. Illya was standing outside and in his other hand he was holding a frog. And he looked so happy. Gaby let the photo drop from her hand as she pressed her face on her palms. Her body was shaking and it was hard to breath. The only thing Gaby could do was to cry. She pulled her legs against her chest and hugged them.

Gaby didn’t know how long she sat in the cellar. She leaned against the wall and hugged her legs still. Her eyes were dry, but she could feel the dried salty tears on her cheeks. It was cold. She was shivering and couldn’t control it anymore. So she carefully stood up. She collected Illya´s memories back into the cigar box, slid it into its paper bag and buried it under the potatoes. She put the empty cola bottle on the shelf and climbed back up the stairs. She walked straight across the hall and went out. The warm air felt nice against her chilly skin and after breathing in the cellar’s musty smell, it was nice to breathe fresh air. She walked along the forest’s edge to get her joints moving after hunching so long. Gaby walked towards the orchard and jumped to catch an apple. It was bitter, but not too much. After thinking about Illya so much, she instantly remembered how he had told her that his mother used to do the best apple pie. Gaby lifted her head and looked the trees. She could bake apple pie for him, with her grandmother’s recipe. It probably wasn’t anywhere near his mother’s pie, but Gaby felt like it was the thought that mattered.

It had been a long time since she had last climbed a tree. Luckily it was like riding a bicycle. She climbed the biggest tree and dropped apples on the ground, then jumped back down and gathered all the apples in her shirt. In the bunker she let the apples roll on the kitchen counter and started going through the cupboards. Flour, butter, sugar, eggs, milk and baking powder. Gaby started to mix the ingredients. She added more sugar because of the sour apples. She spread the soft batter in the pan and then just pressed apple slides on top of that. She would have added cinnamon, but that she didn’t find. It was her grandmother’s apfelkuchen. Napoleon probably wouldn’t call it a pie, he would say cake. But Illya had said the same thing about her mother’s pie, so Gaby felt like she was on the right tracks.

She tapped her floury hands together to clean them up and wiped the rest on her trousers. She pushed the pie in the oven and sat on the floor. She watched oven door and leant against the cupboards.

“Here you are,” Napoleon said when he came to the kitchen. “I thought that you just went to make a call.”

“I did,” Gaby said.

“That was almost two hours ago,” Napoleon pointed out.

Gaby shrugged her shoulders. She crawled to the oven, peeked in and returned to lean on the cupboard. “I went to the cellar after that. And climbed a tree. Now I’m baking.”

“Deliberately?” Napoleon asked confused.

”Of course,” Gaby said. ”Nobody bakes accidentally.”

“Have you been crying?” Napoleon asked.

Gaby shrugged her shoulders again. “It doesn’t matter. Our flight leaves day after tomorrow.”

“That soon?” Napoleon said.

“They want us out of the country,” Gabby said. “Apparently we weren’t very welcome visitors to begin with. Waverly managed to send us here because of a loophole.”

“What about the archive?” Napoleon asked.

”I assume that we continued as planned; destroy everything that’s not important,” Gaby said.

“So everything,” Napoleon said. “We already moved some of it up.” Napoleon squatted by Gaby’s side. ”What’s wrong?”

“Why do you think something is wrong?” Gaby asked.

“Because you have been crying,” Napoleon said. ”And now you are baking. That’s seems very unbalanced.”

Gaby managed to smile.

“Tell me,” Napoleon asked.

“The KGB is pulling Illya back, to work just for them. They say he is been compromised,” Gaby said. “We have to leave the country and he has to stay.”

Napoleon nodded. He didn’t try to comfort Gaby because he knew that was not what she wanted. She wanted normality. So Napoleon stood up. ”I came to make dinner. Do you want to help?”

“No,” Gaby said. Napoleon grinned to her and Gaby made a little smile.

“Then go help with the folders,” Napoleon told. ”I will take your… what are you baking?”

“Apple pie,” Gaby muttered as she stood up.

“I will take the apple pie out when it’s done,” Napoleon promised.

“Don’t burn it,” Gaby reminded.

“I love when you give me baking tips,” Napoleon smirked.

Gaby huffed as she went. This time she picked the right corridor. There were already piles of folders by the door. Gaby walked down the stairs to the archive. Illya was just lifting pile of folders when he saw Gaby and stopped. Gaby could see him looking her and noticing everything.

“Let’s just not talk about it,” she asked. “Okay?”

Illya nodded and lifted the pile. It was obvious that Gaby had cried. She also had something white on her trousers. It looked like flour but Illya couldn’t say why Gaby would have flour on her. Also there was the reddish dust from the outside and a leaf attached her cardigan. Well, his cardigan. But if Gaby didn’t want to talk about it, Illya respected her decision. And it’s not like he could force her to talk. So they just carried folders upstairs until Napoleon informed them that the food was ready.

In the evening Napoleon fetched some scotch from his bag and Gaby brought her pie in and put it on the living room table.

“Plates,” she remembered and headed back to the kitchen.

Illya looked the pie suspiciously.

“Gaby baked,” Napoleon said in case Illya hadn’t somehow noticed already.

“Deliberately?” Illya asked.

“Apparently,” Napoleon said.

Gaby returned with plates and knife. She cut everybody a piece and handed them on. Illya and Napoleon both looked the pie pieces on their plates. Illya glanced Gaby who was watching him. She made a little smile. It was the first one Illya had seen since he had kissed her fingers and he didn’t want it to go away. So he took his fork and tasted.

“Well?” Napoleon asked.

“It is nice,” Illya said. And it was. It was nice that Gaby had baked them. The pie itself was a little chewy and very sweet. But it really didn’t matter. Gaby’s smile was worth eating it.

When Gaby tasted it Illya could see how her chewing slowed down and he couldn’t help but smiling.

“Maybe a little sweet,” Illya said.

Gaby pushed the plate away after few bites. “You don’t have to finish it,” she said to Illya and handed his scotch to him.

Illya took the glass from Gaby and left his plate in the coffee table.

“I don’t think this is a pie”, Napoleon said. “I think it’s a cake.”

“You are wrong”, Illya said.

“But there’s no crust, its spongy”, Napoleon said. “Apple pie should have a crust.”

“Maybe in America”, Illya argued. “But we are not in America.”

“Let’s not do this now”, Gaby asked. “It’s late.”

Napoleon stood up and picked up the record on top of the pile. He didn’t look the pile more than that. He could just guess: classic and Russian. There was a nice calm moment of Tchaikovsky and scotch before they left to sleep.

“Are you going to come warm up with me?” Napoleon asked when she and Gaby were going in their rooms.

“No,” Gaby said.

”Well don’t let Peril keep you up,” he said grinning.

“Good night,” Gaby said very primly and shut the door behind her. She changed to her pajamas. There was still flour on the cardigan and she shook it off before pulling it back on. For a moment she stood still on the cold concrete floor. She could do all the movement: turn off the light, go to bed and roll around until she would get up and leave. Gaby felt like the adult thing was to acknowledge that she was going to sleep in Illya´s bed anyway. There was warmth and comfort there. So Gaby was an adult and sneaked out before even trying to sleep in her own bed.

Illya was still up and reading. He leaned against the beds headboard and the light on the bedside table was making shadows on the walls. Gaby crept in and Illya kept reading. He gave only little glance at her when she was closing the door. Gaby climbed onto the bed and found herself a comfortable position. The turning of book pages was the only noise in the room.

Gaby watched Illya. He looked so serious while he was reading. She took a deep breath. Everything was so peaceful.

“Do you want to talk about it now?” Illya asked when he turned a page.

“No,” Gaby said.

Illya nodded to his book.

Gaby turned on her back. There was moving shadows on the ceiling. “I climbed an apple tree today,” she said.

Illya lowered his book.

“It was easy. I would have imagined that it would be much harder after so many years,” Gaby said. “I hope the owner doesn’t mind.”

“It is abandoned,” Illya said. ”The trees are old and the apples have grown bitter.”

“That’s why I added more sugar,” Gaby said. “That was maybe a mistake. Sorry the pie didn’t work. I’m sure you mother’s was infinitely better.”

“You baked it because my mother used to make apple pie?” Illya asked.

Gaby nodded.

”You baked for me?” Illya asked.

”I wanted to do something nice,” Gaby said. ”Now I think that I should have done something else.”

Illya felt that nice warm feeling in his chest. Gaby had baked for him. Not for everybody or just because she wanted to bake. But for him. And now she was lying there, in his bed. Her hair spread on the pillow and her eyes looking at the ceiling. Illya got up from the bed and opened the door.

“Illya?” Gaby said and sat up, then jumped out of bed. She had to run so she could keep up with him. “Where are you going?” She whispered because she didn’t want Napoleon to hear.

“To kitchen,” Illya said. “I didn’t finish my pie.”

“What?” Gaby asked. She followed Illya thought the dark dining hall in to the kitchen.

Illya turned the lights on and took the pie from the fridge. He grabbed a fork. “You baked for me. Least I can do is to eat it.”

“You don’t have to,” Gaby said smiling.

Illya sat down unknowingly in the same spot opposite the oven where Gaby had sat before. He leaned against the cabinets and ate his pie. Gaby sat next to him.

“It is better cold,” Illya said.

“Really?” Gaby asked and took the fork from Illya. “It’s still really sweet,” she said.

“The texture is not that weird now,” Illya said.

Gaby leaned against the cabinet and little to Illya.

“No one has baked for me since my mother,” Illya said. “Thank you.”

Gaby shrugged her shoulders against Illya´s arm. ”Who would I bake for if not you? You are my best friend.”

Illya chewed quietly. He wanted to say the same thing to Gaby, but the words just got stuck in his throat. Instead he glanced at Gaby who was warming her toes in her hands. He gave a little nod towards his legs and Gaby lifted her feet up on the cold floor and placed her ankles on his legs. She wrapped Illya´s cardigan better around her and leaned properly on Illya´s shoulder.

“Please don’t eat it anymore,” Gaby asked, smiling. “I’m afraid that you are going to get sick.”

“The apples on their own are very tasty,” Illya assured quietly. He offered the next bite to Gaby.

The apples were tender and sweet after baking. Much better on their own than with the pastry under them. Gaby closed her eyes and pressed her head on Illya´s shoulder. Maybe she was a little cold and uncomfortable, but she was with Illya. It felt like a fair trade.


	13. A big promise

No matter how many folders they carried outside, there were always more. They made just one big pile in the field and burned those in half of a metal barrel. One of them was always poking the burning paper mass with a stick, so that the fire could breathe. The blackened papers crimped and turned to ash. Now and then Illya threw in a few logs, because the paper on its own was too dense to burn without suffocating itself.

Gaby stood next to the barrel and poked the burning paper. She had left her cardigan inside so it didn’t start to smell like smoke; she was hot anyway. She wasn’t even sweating, but her arms felt like they were cooking. After poking the fire and getting it some air, she had to step further away so her skin didn’t burn. Her cheeks were red and hot, and the paper ash flakes stained her everywhere she touched herself. Illya went to make dinner and Napoleon threw more folders in the fire. Gaby just kept poking.

“What are you going to do?” Napoleon asked.

Gaby frowned. ”About what?”

”Tomorrow. Illya,” Napoleon said.

Gaby kept poking. She always knew that the conversation was going to be serious when Napoleon said Illya instead of Peril. “Nothing,” she said.

“Why?” Napoleon asked. ”What if you don’t see him again? Are you just going to do nothing?”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Gaby sighed. “I can’t just act like the end of the world is coming. I can’t just assume that I am not going to see him anymore. I have to hope that I will. If there’s no hope, then there’s nothing. It’s the only thing that is keeping me from falling apart right now.”

“But what if –“

“No!” Gaby stopped him. ”You don’t understand. It’s just if I get to have… Do you know where all the people I have ever cared for in my life are?”

Napoleon didn’t say anything because he knew the answer.

“They are dead,” Gaby said. ”I have no one left. You, Waverly and Illya are all I have. And I can’t lose you too. I can’t lose him.”

Napoleon threw more folders in the flames and took the poking stick from Gaby.

“You once asked me not to tease Illya if I wasn’t serious with him,” Gaby remembered. “And I don’t know if I ever gave you answer.”

“Were you?” Napoleon asked. ”Are you?”

”Of course I am,” Gaby said out loud for a first time. “But I feel like we have to have something to wait for. I feel like we are going to a war and if we don’t have anything to fight for, then maybe we aren’t coming back. If I just let my feelings loose right now I fear that Illya won’t fight as hard as he could, because he doesn’t have anything to wait for anymore.”

“You think he would just give up, if you went to him and told him how you felt?” Napoleon asked. “Because I don’t think he would do that. He isn’t the quitting type.”

”I don’t want to risk it,” Gaby said and threw some folders in while Napoleon poked.

“That’s not it,” Napoleon said.

“What?” Gaby asked. ”You don’t believe that I’m telling you the truth?”

“I think it’s part of the truth, but not all of it,” Napoleon said.

“What more do you want?” Gaby asked frustrated. “There’s nothing else.”

“I don’t believe you don’t trust Illya to fight against the KGB. Or that you are too scared to tell him how you feel because everybody you have told, has died,” Napoleon said. “So what is it?”

“There’s nothing more,” Gaby huffed. ”Just drop it.”

“No, not this time I won’t,” Napoleon said. “Why are you hiding this now?”

“Because I’m scared!” Gaby yelled him and dropped the folders she was holding back onto the pile. ”I am scared and weak. And that’s what I do. If something is scary and I don’t want to think about it, I just push it away. Because thinking about it paralyzes me. You are acting like I’m totally heartless. And I am not. I can feel all that could be there. I can feel how happy I could be with him. I can feel how much there could be. I can feel it all and it keeps me awake at night. But if I have him now and he doesn’t come back, I will break. If I can feel what it might be with him and then it’s taken away from me, I’m not going to survive that. Then I’ll just have all these feelings and nobody to give them to. I can’t lose him, I just can’t.” Gaby had to take deep breath to calm herself down. She blew the air slowly from her lungs. “Please don’t make me cry. I don’t want to cry anymore,” she asked.

Napoleon went to Gaby and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

“I just can’t lose him,” Gaby said. “So I’m just going to act as normal as I can.”

Napoleon stroked Gaby’s arm.

“Just think how easy everything would be if we were just ordinary people,” Gaby sighed. “If I were just a mechanic, nothing more.”

“If you were just a mechanic you would still live in East Germany and wouldn’t be burning KGB files in a Russian field,” Napoleon pointed out.

“You’re fiercely exaggerating how fun this is,” Gaby huffed. Her heartrate was calming down.

“Well, if you were just a mechanic then you would never have met me,” Napoleon said. “Or Peril.”

“If I was just a mechanic then maybe he would just be an architect and we really would have met when he crashed his car into a tank,” Gaby said.

“But you would be behind the iron curtain,” Napoleon said.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Gaby muttered and kicked the ground.

“I thought that you said you wouldn’t go back there, no matter what,” Napoleon said.

“I wouldn’t,” Gaby said.

“But you would still be there, to be with Illya?” Napoleon asked.

”Yes,” Gaby sighed.

”That’s sounds so complicated,” Napoleon said. “Love. Good thing I’ve been smart enough to avoid it.”

“Who said anything about love?” Gaby asked.

“Only reason you didn’t say that exact word was because you deliberately chose not to say it,” Napoleon pointed out. “But it’s there. I can smell it on you.”

“I thinks that’s the smoke,” Gaby said.

Napoleon smiled to Gaby. “There’s soot on your nose. Or maybe it’s the love. It’s probably escaping through your pores. It’s disgusting.”

“Shut up,” Gaby said and couldn’t help smiling a little.

“You see, things aren’t that bad,” Napoleon said. “You are smiling.”

Gaby kicked the ground again. “Thanks,” she muttered.

Napoleon nodded and squeezed Gaby’s shoulder. “But there really is soot on your nose.”

Gaby rubbed her nose and only managed to spread it around. “I’m going to wash my face,” she said and left. She washed the soot away. It was everywhere. For a moment she just leaned her hands against the sink and breathed. She had to push the thoughts away. After drying her face she went to the kitchen. She walked past Illya who was standing by the stove and passed him to get plates.

“You smell like smoke,” Illya said when Gaby fetched the cutlery from a drawer next to the stove.

“So do you. I’m sure the smell will stay here for days after we are gone,” Gaby said and gave a little smile.

Illya hoped that too. It would remind him of Gaby and it would feel like she had never left. Illya watched her though the hatch in the wall between kitchen and dining hall. There was a lock of hair on her cheek which she kept brushing behind her ear, but the lock just kept falling on her cheek. Illya wanted to go and brush it away for her. Then he would’ve wanted to press his face against Gaby’s hair and inhale her smoky scent.

Gaby lifted herself on her tiptoes to reach the glasses. She pulled those down slowly, one by one. So she could watch Illya at the same time. He was turning the pieces of meat in the pan and then glancing at her. Gaby pushed through her sad thoughts and smiled at him. She was still happy when Napoleon showed up and they weren’t alone anymore. She felt like, if Illya only touched her, she would just shatter in to pieces.

Now she stayed in one piece. They ate and then went burn the rest of the folders. In the evening Gaby washed her hair twice so she could get all the smoke out of it. Then she sat in the shower room floor and let the hot water pour over her until her fingertips were wrinkly.

Gaby pulled on her pajamas and went to the living room. Napoleon gave her a glass of scotch and she curled up on the couch. She kept the glass between her hands like she was protecting it. Napoleon stood up to change the record, only he dropped it and when he bent down to lift it, he noticed there was one record behind the cabinet where the record player was.

“You have dropped one,” Napoleon said and grabbed the record.

“No,” Illya said quickly. “Do not take it.”

But Napoleon had already pulled the record out. “Solomon Burke,” he said in surprise. “I didn’t know you liked him.”

Illya grabbed the record to himself. “It is not mine,” he said. “Play something else.” He glanced quickly at the couch, but Gaby just stared her drink and bit her lower lip, like she did when she was somewhere miles away.

“Why can’t we play that one?” Napoleon asked.

“It is broken,” Illya said and pushed the record back behind the cabinet and gave Napoleon another record in the pile. “Play that one. It is good.”

“You didn’t even look at what it was,” Napoleon pointed out.

“They are all good,” Illya said and returned to the couch. He glanced at Gaby, but the girl hadn’t noticed anything.

Napoleon watched Illya and frowned. Illya was sitting as stiff as if he was made from wood. Napoleon put on the record Illya gave him, even though he didn’t believe that the Solomon Burke was broken. He was sure it had something to do with Gaby, because Illya kept looking at her. If this would have been any other night Napoleon would have asked about the record so that Gaby would hear it, but not tonight. He let Illya keep his secret and watch Gaby who protected her scotch.

“I think I’m going to bed,” Gaby said after she had finished her scotch. “Good night.”

Illya watched when she went.

“She isn’t coming to you tonight,” Napoleon said.

Illya turned his eyes to Napoleon. “I do not know what –“

“Of course you don’t know. It’s all in my head,” Napoleon interrupted him. “But still she isn’t coming. Call it self-preservation.”

Illya watched his empty glass so he didn’t have to watch Napoleon.

Napoleon stood up. “But I think you should go to her,” he said and left Illya alone in the living room.

Illya waited for a while. Though he didn’t like to take advice from Napoleon, he went to Gaby’s door. He didn’t knock, just entered the dark room. He knew that Gaby was still awake even though she didn’t make any noise. In the light coming from the corridor he could see Gaby lying just on the edge of the bed. It was like her worry and sorrow took up half the space. Illya closed the door, and in the darkness he lay down next to Gaby and wrapped his arm around her.

Gaby took a deep breath when Illya touched her. She took his hand on her own and pulled it against her chest. She felt like that way she could keep Illya safe and with her. She could feel his warm breath on her neck and it made her warm too. Still she couldn’t sleep. And Illya´s light breathing told that he wasn’t sleeping either.

“Twenty-two,” Gaby said quietly.

“What?” Illya asked.

”You have had stitches twenty-two times,” Gaby guessed.

Illya shook his head and Gaby felt it in her neck. “No. But that is very close.”

“That’s too many,” Gaby sighed.

“It is just wounds,” Illya whispered. “They heal. And then it is just scars.”

“Nobody should have that many scars,” Gaby said. “Has there been anybody to kiss them better?” Like Illya had done yesterday. Gaby stroked the bandage with her thumb.

“My mother,” Illya said quietly.

“But after that?” Gaby asked.

“Maybe for a few of them,” Illya said. “Years ago.”

“Did you love her?” Gaby asked. She wanted to be jealous, but she couldn’t be. Instead she was grateful that there had been somebody to take care of Illya, comforting him and kissing his pain away.

“It felt like that at the time,” Illya said. Now he didn’t believe that he had been. It hadn’t felt anything like this.

“What happened?” Gaby asked. She felt Illya´s nose touching her neck as he took a deep breath.

“We were young,” Illya told. “And she wanted a life I could not offer to her. And I was… too much.”

“Too much?”

“She was afraid of me. I would never have hurt her, but I think that was what she was scared of. She never said it, but I could see it in her eyes,” Illya said. “I understand her decision.”

Gaby squeezed Illya´s hand a little harder again her. She had never been scared of Illya. Now she just was afraid that she might lose him. “Twenty.”

“Close,” Illya muttered.

“I have the same record,” Gaby confessed.

Illya sighed and was embarrassed. Of course Gaby did hear the conversation.

“I listen to it when I can’t sleep,” Gaby told. “It reminds me of you, and I always sleep better next to you.”

“It reminds me of the time you tackled me over the couch armrest in Rome,” Illya confessed. “I did not believe you could be that strong.”

“I thought that I just surprised you,” Gaby said.

“You did,” Illya said. “In many ways.”

“I’m afraid that I’m not going see you after this,” Gaby confessed quietly. She didn’t want to say it to Illya, but it had just come out.

Illya hold Gaby little tighter for a while. “I know.”

The fact that Illya didn’t say that she was worrying about nothing meant that he was afraid of that too. And that was scarier than anything. Illya wasn’t the type to be afraid. Yet he was. Gaby closed her eyes and fought against the tears. She didn’t want to cry now. She wanted to be strong like him, though she wasn’t.

Illya felt like the darkness, once again, made everything easier. So without thinking it over too much, he pressed his face against Gaby’s neck. He wanted to say that everything would be just fine, but he didn’t really know that, and he didn’t want to lie to Gaby. Instead he just tried to get as much of Gaby’s scent and warmth in storage as possible.

“Eighteen,” Gaby whispered.

“Correct,” Illya said against her neck. “What do you want?”

You, was the thing Gaby wanted to say, but didn’t. “Nutcracker,” she finally decided.

“You want a nutcracker?” Illya asked.

”I want you to take me to see the Nutcracker at Christmas,” Gaby said. ”And you have to because you promised me anything.”

“I promise,” Illya sighed, and he really wanted to keep that promise. “Tomorrow I am going to cook you breakfast and make you coffee, and this Christmas I am taking you to see the Nutcracker.”

Gaby nodded because she couldn’t say anything. If she were to speak, her voice would’ve cracked and she would cry. She just squeezed Illya´s hand harder against her. Illya pressed kiss on Gaby’s neck. He really didn’t know what was going to happen, but he could keep Gaby close and safe in this one moment.


	14. Pocket full of jam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picture to go with the story: [Scotland, September](http://edenforest.tumblr.com/post/143023516145/getting-to-know-you-getting-to-know-all-about)

Gaby made herself a sandwich and drank her coffee. She ate standing up, leaning against the sink. That is how she ate nowadays when she was at home. It was efficient and quick. She focused just the eating and nothing more. Besides she didn’t have the time to sit down. She had work to do. A lot of it. She was always doing something. Waverly had given her paperwork at HQ, between operations. She didn’t take any more baths, because that was just sitting down. She only showered quickly. She went jogging in the morning and evenings. And she was constantly cleaning. There was not a single dirty dish in the sink, no dust on any of the surfaces and no clothes hanging on chairs. At night she just crashed onto her bed exhausted which was the only way for her to sleep. Some nights she needed a glass of vodka or four, but mostly she just did something non-stop all day.

The phone rang and Gaby went to the bedroom. “Hello,” she answered.

“Teller,” Waverly’s voice said.

The coffee cup dropped from Gaby’s hand. It shattered against the floor and the coffee splashed everywhere. She didn’t get direct calls. It was her own request to keep her apartment away from her job. The center called her wrong number and then they called again in the phone booth nearby. And only after that was she connected to Waverly. But they never called her directly. Especially not Waverly himself. And he didn’t call her Teller.

”The flight is leaving for Moscow right now,” Waverly said. “There’s a car picking you up in two minutes if you are amenable.”

“What’s happened?” Gaby asked and felt the familiar squeeze in her chest which made breathing harder.

“I can explain on the plane,” he said. “Are you coming?”

“Yes,” Gaby said and heard Waverly ending the call. She took a few deep breaths and pulled herself together. She hung up the phone, bent down and brushed the shrapnel away before she yanked a brown leather bag out from under the bed. Her hand Gaby wiped on the bedspread and ran to the door. She pulled her shoes on and put her red coat on over her cardigan. Then Gaby grabbed the bag and her keys and ran out of the door. She was just rushing down the stairs when a black car pulled up to the house. She opened the door, stuffed in her bag and jumped in.

The car started moving and Gaby closed her eyes for a second. She needed to calm her heart. She tried to concentrate on simple things; she wiped the coffee stain off her bag and straightened her coat. She repeated in her mind that everything was just fine. When she looked out of the windows she remembered her Spider, which she hadn’t had time to drive to the garage. She hoped it would be just fine on the curb.

“Where are we going?” Gaby asked the driver.

“Northolt,” the man said. “Waverly meets you there.”

Gaby nodded. Driving in to the military airport somehow made her calmer. It meant that there wouldn’t be any other passengers, no delays and no stewardesses. Everything would be faster and more efficient, and that was what she wanted right now. In Northolt they lifted the beam for them and the car was able to drive straight to the hangar. Gaby saw Waverly talking to somebody next to the plane. The car barely stopped before Gaby was already out.

”You are here, good,” Waverly said and guided Gaby straight to the plane. “We are ready to take off,” he said to the man he had been talking to.

“What’s happened?” Gaby asked.

“Sit down and buckle up,” Waverly said and pushed Gaby’s bag behind the seats. “We are leaving straight away.”

Gaby huffed in frustration, but sat down. There were only four rows of seats. And behind those was thick nylon mesh before the cargo area, which was full of crates. “Is this a cargo flight?” She asked when Waverly sat next to her.

“Yes. They are transporting equipment to Turkey. I managed to get them to fly through Moscow,” Waverly explained. “Solo will meet us there and we continue by helicopter.”

“To where?” Gaby asked. ”What’s happened? Is Illya alright?”

”The truth is I don’t know how he is,” Waverly said.

Gaby felt her heart starting to race again.

“All we know that his career in the KGB is over,” Waverly said. “The last month he has been kept in Vorkutlag, but we don’t know in what kind of a conditions or –“

“Where is that?” Gaby asked.

“In Siberia,” Waverly said.

Gaby held her breath and pressed her head against the bench while takeoff. “They sent him to the gulag.”

“Officially the gulag closed its doors in -62, now it’s just a prison,” Waverly said. “But basically yes. The KGB believed that Kuryakin didn’t work for them or Russia anymore. The only good thing here is that while working for us, he has made name for himself outside of the Soviets. And because there was no real evidence against him, they couldn’t just make him disappear so to speak, without it becoming a political problem. Only way his superiors were able to stay in the KGB and keep their jobs was to let him go. Lucky for us they are narcissistic men who’d like to keep their status,” Waverly told.

Gaby took a deep breath. ”So at least he is alive.”

“Yes,” Waverly said. “Russians still don’t want to hand him over, but I have orders to retrieve him and get him out of the country. If they have any sense, they just let him leave.”

Gaby nodded.

“We are picking him up by the bunker, where he was stationed before. The KGB transports him there and he can gather his things,” Waverly said. “We have a little retreat up north where he can recover. That is, if he doesn’t need a hospital. I really don’t know how much time he needs. You should prepare yourself. I’m sure they have asked him many questions to which he has had no answers.”

Gaby bit her lower lip. Everything Waverly said, she wanted to hear, but it still felt bad. “Did you say Napoleon is going to be in Moscow?” Gaby asked.

“Yes. He was in France,” Waverly said.

Gaby nodded again. At least with Napoleon she wasn’t the only one who was utterly unwanted in Russia. After landing she felt the same anxiety as six weeks earlier. Like somebody was watching her all the time. In the helicopter Gaby didn’t say a word. She didn’t hear what Waverly and Napoleon were talking about. She didn’t even look outside. She just sat and stared her hands. She was trying to not think about all the things Illya must have gone through in the last six weeks, and she was failing horribly. Every time Gaby blinked she could just see blood and pain.

She woke up from her thoughts only when Napoleon pushed her shoulder and pointed out the window. They were landing. Gaby saw first the orchard and the trees that looked like dead hands. Only after that she saw the bunker. There were cars and people outside. When they went closer Gaby could see that some of them were in uniforms and carried rifles.

The Helicopter landed on the field and they stepped out. The air was windy even without the moving propeller. Waverly asked them to wait.

“No,” Gaby said. She knew that she would have to get inside. ”I have to get something in there.”

“That’s not a good idea,” Waverly said.

“I have to,” Gaby just said and started walking towards the bunker. The closer she got, the more nervous she was. But she needed to go the cellar. She needed to go and get Illya´s secret cigar box underneath the potatoes. She was sure that they were monitoring his every movement and Illya didn’t have a chance to get it by himself. And Gaby was sure that Illya wasn’t going to ask anyone to get it. He knew that the KGB wouldn’t let him keep his father’s medals. In their eyes he was a traitor, just like Illya. So Gaby would get those. She knew Waverly and Napoleon were following her. She walked quickly ahead. She walked past two middle aged men in their suits and trench coats. Gaby didn’t look at them. She knew that she would be strong only if she kept going and did not look at the people. She only had her blind faith that, with Waverly there, nobody would harm her. She stopped only when she reached the door, there was a man with a uniform and a rifle. Gaby looked to Waverly who had stopped to talk to the two men in trench coats. He pointed in her direction. One of the men said, in Russian, to let her in.

The guard stepped aside and Gaby rushed down the stairs. She ran straight ahead to the cellar door, turned the dim light on and walked down the stairs. She pushed the potatoes aside and grabbed the package. She ripped the paper bag and opened the cigar box. Gaby put the toy car in her trouser pocket and the medals and jewelry in the other. The photos she pushed in the inside pocket of her coat. Then she just dropped the empty box on the floor. There was still jam on the shelf like she had hoped. She needed a reason for being down there.

Napoleon stood further away from Waverly and the two Russians. He recognized the other man, he had seen him at that café in Berlin after Illya almost strangled him in the men’s room. He stared at the bunker door. When first an armed guard and then Illya came out, he actually huffed in relief. Another armed guard followed them. He was too far to see Illya´s face, but at least he was walking on his own and managed to carry a bag. The Russians left him and Waverly and started to walk toward Illya.

Illya walked past Oleg. He didn’t even glance at him. He just kept walking until he reached Waverly and Cowboy. He couldn’t decide was he happy or disappointed when Gaby wasn’t there. He missed her, and would’ve wanted to see her. But still he was glad not to see Gaby in this place anymore, not with these people. He wanted to keep her away from everything like this for now on.

“Kuryakin,” Waverly said and Napoleon could hear that even he was relief. “Excellent. Why didn’t Gaby come up with you?”

“Is Gaby here?” Illya asked. The first thing he felt wasn’t even fear. He was just angry. Why on earth hade Waverly let her go down there? His already dark expression compacted further and he turned around. He didn’t get to take more than few steps until Gaby came out. He could see her red coat.

Gaby saw Illya with Napoleon and Waverly and the tight knot in her chest started to loosen. He was at least standing. She had to walk past one of the men in trenchcoats, and when she did, he spoke to her.

“What do you have there? What’s that in your hand?” the man asked.

Gaby stopped. She lifted one of the jars and answered in Russian: “варенья из чер –“

“How dare you speak to me in my mother tongue, you German whore,” the man interrupted her immediately and stepped closed.

Oleg’s voice carried to Illya´s ears. Napoleon grabbed his arm before he could move.

“No. Gaby will manage on her own,” Napoleon said. “If you go there, it’s just going to make it worse.”

Gaby lifted her head. She wasn’t going to show her fear. “It’s black cherry jam. Illya likes to put it in his tea.”

Oleg laughed mockingly. “Illya,” he repeated the name Gaby used. ”Are you the one who made him betray his country?”’

“I don’t think that Illya would ever betray his country,” Gaby said. “You just think he would.”

“What did you do?” Oleg asked. ”Grabbed him with your sharp claws and did not let go? Did you show him all the tricks the men in your garage taught you? I am sure you have many. I know your kind.”

Gaby took a deep breath. “Nothing like that,” she said calmly. “I just showed him some kindness, and he followed me like a puppy.” Gaby felt like acting strong made her strong. And she wasn’t going to let this angry Russian see her fear. “If you had shown him some kindness, maybe he never would have followed me.”

Oleg stepped closed and grabbed Gaby by her jaw.

Napoleon had to pull Illya back as hard as he could. “She can manage,” he said even if he really didn’t know. But Napoleon knew that if he would let Illya go right then, it would end badly.

“Would you let go of my agent,” Waverly commanded and started walking back to the bunker.

“I could break your jaw in my hand,” Oleg grunted to Gaby.

Gaby stared him straight to eyes. She wasn’t going to bend in front of him. “If you break my jaw, I promise that Illya will break every bone in your body. He will rip apart everything in his path until there’s nothing left of you. He will scorch this land to its bones,” she hissed.

Oleg pushed Gaby away. She didn’t hesitate to leave. She turned around and started walking toward the helicopter, Waverly, Napoleon and Illya. She saw how Napoleon let go of Illya´s arms. She just wanted to keep Illya safe from now on. She wanted to kiss all his scars better and make sure he would be happy. So she stopped and turned around. And she yelled to Oleg across the field in Russian, in his mother tongue which he didn’t want her kind of German whore to use.

“If you ever come near him, I will put a bullet through your brain!” Gaby yelled in Russian. Then she turned back towards the helicopter.

”That was nice and dramatic,” Napoleon muttered and pushed Illya to the helicopter.

Waverly waited for Gaby and climbed in last. Gaby sat opposite to Illya. She didn’t even try to act like she was looking somewhere else. She just stared at him. But Illya didn’t look at her. He stared his own hands. He seemed to be physically just fine. There was only light yellowing around his other eye which told her that he had had a black eye. But there wasn’t blood or broken bones. In Moscow they boarded their own small plane. Gaby sat down and watched Illya, who was walking behind her, then past her and to the end of the plane. She wanted to stand up and follow him, but she didn’t want to force her company.

Illya didn’t want to talk anybody. Not even Gaby. He had seen her and that was enough for now. Before he could talk to her or touch her, he just wanted to take the time to calm down. He wanted to be with her only when he wasn’t this angry, when his body relaxed a bit and when he didn’t feel like he would, at any given moment, snap and demolish half of the plane.

Napoleon sat next to Gaby. “Are you okay?”

Gaby answered with a little smile but didn’t say anything.

“He just needs to be alone for now,” Napoleon said. “I think there’s a lot that he has to go through.”

“I understand,” Gaby said. “But it still bothers me. I would listen to him.”

“I’m sure, but I don’t think he wants to talk yet,” Napoleon said.

After the takeoff, Waverly stood up and walked past Gaby and Napoleon to the end of the plane.

Napoleon opened his seatbelt and looked at Gaby. “Why do you have jam?” he asked.

Gaby realized that she was still holding jam jar in both of her hands. The other two were on her coat pockets. “I needed a reason to go to the cellar.”

“Why did you go to the cellar?” Napoleon wondered. “What was there?”

Gaby placed the jars on her lap and pulled out the stack of photos. She found the one she was going to share with Napoleon and handed him the picture with Illya and frog.

“Is that Peril?” Napoleon laughed.

Gaby nodded. “He looks so happy.”

“Well anybody would be happy with a frog like that,” Napoleon grinned because he wanted Gaby to smile. And succeed in that.

“I guess so,” Gaby sighed and took the picture back. “I hope he’s that happy again one day.”

“Everybody wants to be that happy,” Napoleon said and corrected his position to be more comfortable. “He just needs another frog.”

Gaby put Illya´s pictures back into her pocket and leaned back in her seat. Slowly her body was loosening the knots and making her relax a bit.

Waverly returned and stopped to talk to them. “It seems that Kuryakin is in reasonably good physical health. I recommended at least four to five days of rest. We are flying first to Inverness and after that in London. Are you returning France?”

“I think we are all going to stay in Scotland,” Napoleon said. “Right?” He asked to Gaby.

“Yes,” Gaby nodded.

“Well, maybe that’s best,” Waverly confessed. “I would rather leave him under some supervision and make sure he really is fine. I have arranged a car for you. The place is about twenty miles north of Inverness. Kuryakin has the directions. There should be supplies enough to cope until tomorrow.”

“I’m sure we´ll manage,” Napoleon said.

Gaby closed her eyes when Waverly returned to his seat. She felt like she could breathe a little easier.

It was late before their plane landed in Inverness. Waverly meet someone who gave him keys, which he gave to Gaby.

“Thank you,” Gaby said and smiled. And it had nothing to with the keys.

“We´ll see you next week,” Waverly said. He watched Gaby walking to a car. She opened the trunk and Kuryakin lifted his bag in and then hers. Then he handed the directions to Gaby. He was avoiding Gaby’s eyes, but Gaby was staring straight at him.

“Is that going to be a problem?” Waverly asked and pointed to the car.

Napoleon watched what he was meaning. “I don’t understand, sir.”

“Don’t insult me, Solo. I’m not blind,” Waverly said. “And they are doing quite a poor job hiding it.”

“I know,” Napoleon said smiling. “But no, it’s not going to be a problem. If it was going to be, it already would.” He left Waverly and walked to the car. Gaby was starting it and he climbed in the front. Illya sat it the back seat and leaned his forehead against the window.

After many miles driving in the dark, Gaby pulled over in front of a log cabin. There were antlers on top of the door and to Gaby it looked like an old hunting lodge. Napoleon reached the door first and she threw the keys at him. Gaby walked in last. It felt safer when she could see Illya at all times. She pulled the door closed behind her and dropped her bag on the floor. The place was just one big room. It was well-worn, but clean. Every piece of furniture looked like it had had a full life somewhere else and then it had been brought there. Nothing matched. The chairs around the round table were all different looking. But somehow it looked cozy. There was no need to be politely here. The couch looked soft and the dark brown upholstery was going to be okay even if you would spill some wine in there. And the orange armchair by the big fireplace was big enough for Gaby to curl up and take a nap. Gaby rubbed her hands together. It was chilly and she wondered should they light the fire. She finally parted from the jam jars and put those on the kitchen table. Napoleon reappeared somewhere behind her, in the kitchen.

“There’s bedrooms and a bathroom in the back,” he said. “Should we light fire?”

Gaby nodded. Against the wall was pile on logs and on top of the mantelpiece Gaby found a matchbox. Napoleon started opening the kitchen cupboards.

“I will get some more firewood,” Illya said.

Gaby watched as he went.

“See, a whole sentence,” Napoleon pointed out. “It’ll be fine.”

Gaby concentrated on the fireplace and let Illya disappear from her sight. She was relieved when he returned with the firewood. Not that Gaby really feared that Illya would disappear again, but she liked to make sure that it wouldn’t happen.

“There’s eggs,” Napoleon told. “Half a jar of pickled something and a can of beans.”

Napoleon made omelets. Afterwards Illya grabbed his bag and disappeared behind the kitchen. Gaby could hear him closing the door behind him. She walked around the floor and threw more wood on the fire. Then she stretched her shoulders and arms, she jumped a few times and took a deep breath. Napoleon watched what she was doing. He smiled at Gaby’s preparations. It was like she was preparing for battle.


	15. Frog

Gaby knocked carefully on Illya´s door. She didn’t hear any reply, but walked in anyway. She closed the door and stood in the middle of the room. Illya was sitting on the edge of the bed and didn’t look like he even noticed her.

“Hi,” Gaby said quietly.

Illya glanced her, but didn’t say anything. He just looked gloomy.

”Are you okay?” Gaby asked.

”No,” Illya said.

“Of course not,” Gaby sighed. “That was a stupid question.”

Illya was grinding his teeth and twisted his hands. “I need to go back.”

Gaby frowned. “To Russia?”

”Yes.”

”Why would you ever want to go back?” Gaby asked. ”They treated you like a traitor.”

“I have to get something,” Illya said.

Gaby sighed in relief when he realized why Illya would want to go back. “You don’t have to.”

“Yes I do,” Illya said. ”There is something I didn’t have a chance to get.”

“I understand,” Gaby said and went to Illya. “But you don’t have to go.”

Illya huffed frustrated. “Yes I do. I have –”

“No,” Gaby said gently and smiled a little. “You really don’t.” She pulled the toy car from her pocket and handed to Illya. He took it slowly in to his hand and just stared it. Gaby pulled the jewelry and medals from the other pocket and placed those on the bedside table. Illya´s eyes followed her movements when she placed the photos over the medals. “It’s all there,” Gaby said.

Illya watched his memories on top of the night stand. His hand started shaking.

“Illya,” Gaby sighed. She knelt on the floor and took Illya´s shaking hand on her own. “I’m so sorry that I went through your things. But I was just helping you and –“

“No,” Illya said and shook his head. “It is not that, I’m not angry.”

Gaby noticed that Illya´s other hand was shaking too and she took hold of that. “Can I help?”

Illya shook his head again and looked Gaby for the first time. Gaby could see the dark circles under his eyes. He looked exhausted.

“When was the last time you slept?” Gaby asked concerned.

”Last night,” Illya said.

“Properly,” Gaby corrected. ”When was the last time you slept more than few hours?”

Illya shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. Six weeks ago. I cannot sleep.”

“You can sleep here,” Gaby said. “There’s nothing that could hurt you here.”

“They are still all in my head,” Illya said. “If I sleep, I just have nightmares. So it is just easier not to sleep.”

Gaby lifted her hand on Illya´s cheek. “But they are not here. I’m going to make sure that they will stay out. If you have a nightmare, I’m here to tell you that it’s just a dream and you are safe.” Gaby hadn’t ever seen Illya like this. She had seen him tired and sad, but never this beaten. For the first time Gaby felt like if somebody attacked them, she was the one who would protect Illya, and that fitted Gaby just fine. She took the car from Illya and put it on the nightstand. Then she took off her coat for the first time since she had left home, a lifetime ago. Illya pulled gently at the edge of her cardigan.

“That is mine,” he said.

Gaby took the cardigan off her and wrapped it around Illya´s shoulders. “I kept it safe for you,” she said. Gaby yanked the bedspread off the bed as much as she could because Illya was sitting on it. Illya pressed his face against his shoulder. The cardigan smelled like Gaby.

“Come here,” Gaby said and Illya did as she told, because he was too tired not to obey. He laid down and pressed his head on the soft pillow. Gaby covered him with a blanket and curled up next to him. She pressed her hand on Illya´s neck and stroked it with her thumb. “You are safe here,” she assured. “I’m going to take care of you. You just close your eyes and go to sleep.”

Illya´s body was weighing like a lead. Gaby’s hand on his neck was warm and spread the warmth all over him. He could smell Gaby in his cardigan and his body, which had run on overdrive for weeks, started finally calming down. His eyelids started to close, but he was trying to keep them open. He didn’t want to fall asleep. If he slept, there was a chance that when he woke up, all of this was just a dream, and Gaby wouldn’t be there anymore. He would be alone and without any hope. Illya didn’t want to lose Gaby’s warm hand on his neck anymore.

“Sleep,” Gaby whispered and leaned to press kiss on his cheek. “I’m watching over you.”

Tiredness finally won Illya over. He fell asleep and Gaby didn’t lift her hand away. She kept stoking his neck and kept guard over him. When she fell asleep her hand stayed in its place.

 

They both woke when Illya jumped up because of a nightmare. Gaby lifted her hand onto Illya´s arm like comforting him was a reflex. She wasn’t quite sure what was happening or where she was, but she knew that she wanted to comfort Illya. Everything was blurry and felt somehow soft.

“It’s okay,” Gaby whispered in the dark.

Illya returned to lay down ant turned on his side, facing Gaby. She lifted her soft hand back to his neck and stroked it. “Everything was noisy and fast,” Illya said, “and violent. And you were…”

”It was just a nightmare,” Gaby said and kissed his cheek like before he had fallen asleep. She leaned closer and wrapped her arm around Illya. “You are with me. You are safe,” she whispered and kissed Illya´s lips softly, like she had done many times before.

Illya felt like the nightmare dissolved slowly from his head. Gaby’s kiss erased it and left behind only peace and warmth. Illya wrapped his hand around Gaby’s waist and pulled her closer. Her kiss was safe and familiar.

When Gaby’s lips parted from Illya´s, she didn’t pull herself away from him. He could feel his warm breath on her lips and his palm against her lower back. The world around her started to make sense again. Everything was clearer and the blurriness disappeared. It all had felt like something that she had done before, but it wasn’t.

“Gaby,” Illya muttered almost against her lips.

“It’s okay,” Gaby said and kissed his cheek again. “It was just a dream. I’m here and everything is fine. Go back to sleep.”

Illya closed his eyes and let his face press against Gaby´s neck. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but Gaby was still there even after he had woken. She was so close and he didn’t want her to move any further. He felt Gaby stoking his hair and fell asleep again.

Gaby touched her lips with her tongue. She was almost sure that she had just kissed Illya. It had felt like she was still dreaming, but it had happened. Illya rubbed his face against her neck in his sleep. Gaby didn’t care what was dream and what was true. She just wanted to fall asleep knowing that Illya was safe and with her.

 

In the morning Gaby tried to wiggle herself out from underneath Illya. She was trying to be careful and let Illya sleep as long as he needed. In a perfect world she would’ve just stayed in bed, but in this world she really needed to go to the bathroom. She managed to get out the bed. She tucked him in better and sneaked out the room. After bathroom she went to the kitchen and found Napoleon.

“Coffee?” He asked.

“Thanks,” Gaby yawned. She stretched her back and neck. She felt like she had actually slept and then woken up instead just jumping up in panic.

“How’s Peril?” Napoleon asked and handed a coffee cup to Gaby.

“I’m not sure yet,” Gaby said. “Hopefully better then yesterday. He is still sleeping, he is exhausted. I think we should just let him sleep as long as he can.”

Napoleon nodded. “I fried the rest of the eggs. We need to go to the store”

Gaby took one egg from the plate and ate it walking around the kitchen. From time to time she sipped her coffee. Napoleon sat down and crossed his arms over his chest. He watched Gaby walking around. After every sixth step she turned in a different direction.

“Could you sit down?” Napoleon asked.

“I’m just eating quickly,” Gaby said. “There’s no need to sit.”

“I have seen you in the past six weeks,” Napoleon pointed out. “I’m sure you can remember that. I have seen how you have been coping with this. You have to be doing something all the time. Non-stop. But you don’t have to do it anymore.”

“I know that,” Gaby said. “But you are reading too much into this. I’m just eating standing up, this really isn’t that big of a deal.”

“Please sit down,” Napoleon asked nicely. “He´s safe.”

“I know,” Gaby huffed. Napoleons overreaction started to irritate her.

“Illya is sleeping in there,” Napoleon said and pointed through the kitchen wall. “Right there. Only two ways he can leave is through the window or the door. If he leaves through the window, we will hear the glass braking. And if he leaves through the door, we will see him, because he has to walk past us,” Napoleon explained calmly and without a smirk. “And because we had not heard anything or see him, he is still there. Right there. In the bedroom. Just few yards away. Asleep. He is safe. So would you please sit down?”

Gaby sat and put her coffee cup on the table. She wiped her greasy fingers on her shirt, because it seemed to have a coffee stain in the other sleeve anyway.

“He´s safe,” Napoleon said.

Gaby nodded as she was holding her tears that had suddenly risen to her eyes. “I know.”

“Maybe you should take it easy for a while too,” Napoleon suggested. “You should take a bath.”

“I don’t do baths anymore,” Gaby said. ”there’s too much time to think.”

Napoleon nodded. “And the thing you are thinking about is still sleeping in the bedroom. Right there,” Napoleon reminded.

Gaby frowned at Napoleon.

”You should take a bath and take some time to just be. You know, breathe and watch how you fingertips turn wrinkly,” Napoleon said. “And I stay here and watch that Peril doesn’t disappear. And if for some reason he does, I will notify you as soon as I notice.”

Gaby rolled her eyes.

“And when you have bathed I can go to the store and you can watch him. You can even sit by the bed and stare him, if you feel like that is necessary,” Napoleon said and sounded like he wouldn’t wondered if Gaby did felt it to be necessary.

“I’m not going to stare him while he sleeps,” Gaby said.

“Well that may be best,” Napoleon said. “Now, off you go.”

Gaby huffed, but stood up. Her bag was still by the front door, and she carried it to the third bedroom, which was tiny and windowless. She took off the clothes she had worn now for she didn’t know how many hours. She wrapped herself if a towel and went to fill the tub. Gaby inhaled her lungs full and sank underwater. Voices disappeared there. She could only hear her own heartbeat in her ears. It was tubful of peace, a cocoon where nothing could touch her. Gaby rose only when her lungs were about to burst. It was easier to even trying to relax when she knew that Illya was the other side of the wall, and safe. Then Gaby remembered that she had kissed him last night. She touched her lips. They felt different. Gaby stood up to watch her face from the mirror. She looked exactly the same and sat back down in the hot water. Maybe she looked the same, but Gaby didn’t felt the same. She felt a little stronger and a little freer. She didn’t know from what, but free nonetheless. She sank underwater again and when she reemerged, she climbed out of the bathtub.

When Napoleon left to buy more food, Gaby sat on the couch. She felt like she could do that again. It was nice just to sit and think without horrible images just flashing behind her eyelids.

“Is he still sleeping?” Napoleon asked when he returned.

“Yes,” Gaby said. “I think it’s good.”

“Did you stare at him?” Napoleon smirked and started to unbag the groceries.

Gaby went to help him. “No,” she just said. She had once gone in to check that he was still sleeping and then tucked him in better. Then she had sat in the armchair and watched that the blanket was staying correctly on top of him. But that was just making sure and being thoughtful, not staring.

Gaby and Napoleon had sandwiches at lunch. They fetched more firewood and Napoleon even managed to get Gaby to take a little walk outside, even if Gaby couldn’t then watch Illya´s sleep. There was a bumpy glen just behind the lodge. It ended in rocky coastline and fell in to the sea. It was beautiful there. The trees around the woodshed were changing colour. Gaby thought that if Illya wanted they could walk tomorrow to the nearby hill. The view of the sea must be nice there. Illya would like it. The air was chilly and Gaby missed Illya´s cardigan.

Back inside Napoleon poured them red wine and he let Gaby help with the cooking by laying the table.

Illya woke up without anything waking him. Then he realized he was awake and he jumped to sit almost in panic. It took a while for Illya to realize that there was no reason to panic. Everything was different from how he had gotten used to waking up. The bed under him was soft. The door was ajar and he could hear dishes clinking and people talking. Light conversation, happy sounding words. Nobody was yelling. He could smell food. Illya lay back down. He wasn’t there anymore. He was with Gaby. He could hear her voice and smell her scent still on his cardigan. Carefully he stood up and walk slowly towards the sounds. He stopped by the kitchen door. Napoleon was making the dinner, which was good. Gaby was putting glasses on the table. There was that lock of hair on her cheek that she couldn’t get to keep behind her ears. That made him smile for a first time in weeks.

“You should have woken me up,” Illya said and watched Gaby jump. “I cannot just sleep all day.”

“It was good for you,” Gaby said and pulled chair for him. “Sit.”

Illya sat down and let Gaby be busy around him. He just watched her moving things and stroking the hair lock behind her ear. Napoleon and Gaby were keeping the conversation up, Illya just mostly listened. They didn’t seem to mind. Illya felt like a human again, somebody who had some value in life. He let Gaby dish more food out to him, and Napoleon to fill his wineglass. After dinner he didn’t mind when Gaby filled the bathtub for him. The hot water washed away some of the memories of the last weeks.

Napoleon changed to a light blue shirt and pulled on a jacket. No tie nor waistcoat; that would be too much. They were, after all, in the countryside. Gaby looked him when he returned from his bedroom.

“Are you going somewhere? She asked.

“To the pub,” Napoleon told. “Like a local.”

“You are not staying here?” Gaby asked.

“Unfortunately I have a date which I don’t want to cancel,” Napoleon said.

“When did you manage to make a date?” Gaby wondered.

“At the grocery store,” Napoleon grinned, “by the dairy aisle. Very nice girl. Strawberry blond. I’m taking her to have a drink. Later, I hope, she lets me follow her home.”

“So you are just going to leave?” Gaby said. “You haven’t seen Illya in weeks.”

“I just saw him,” Napoleon pointed out. “We just spoke when you were filling the tub. We bonded. It was beautiful.”

Gaby frowned.

”And there comes time in everybody’s life when they have to move from words to deeds,” Napoleon said. ”And now it’s your time.”

“But –“

“No buts,” Napoleon interrupted. ”Besides I do really like the dairy aisle girl, so everybody wins. I will see you when I come back. I don’t know when that is. Play nice,” Napoleon grinned before he went and winked Gaby by the door.

Gaby grabbed a magazine that Napoleon had brought back and lifted her legs on to the couch. She was flipping through the pages but not really even looking at them. She was nervous.

When Illya returned from his bath, his hair was still moist and a little messy. He had a gray shirt and gray trousers on, and the hot bath had given some colour to his cheeks. Gaby felt like he had lost some weight. He sat on the couch, right next to Gaby’s feet.

“Napoleon has a date. With some strawberry blonde,” Gaby said.

”Yes, he told me,” Illya said nodding and looked at Gaby. “Why is he calling you a frog?”

“What?” Gaby asked. ”A frog?”

”Yes. He wished a nice evening to me and the frog,” Illya said. “I assume you are the frog.”

“Should I be offended?” Gaby asked.

“He is American. They always give each other silly nicknames,” Illya said. ”Maybe it is just that.”

Gaby shrugged her shoulders. Who knew what was happening in Napoleon’s head. She stood up. “Do you want more wine?” she asked.

”No, thank you,” Illya said.

Gaby poured herself a glass. “Do you want something else? I can make you tea if you like.”

“Can I have a scotch?” Illya asked.

Gaby glanced at Illya across the room. The bottle Napoleon hade brought was on the small table about three feet from him. There were glasses next to it. “Sure,” Gaby said smiling. She felt like Illya was taking advantage of her willingness to serve. But she really didn’t mind. He could’ve asked almost anything and Gaby would’ve done it.

She went and poured Illya a glass and handed it to him. Illya´s hand touched first her wrist and slowly slide along her hand before taking hold of the glass. Gaby held her breath.

”Thank you,” Illya said and looked straight into Gaby’s eyes.

“You are welcome,” Gaby whispered.

Seconds ticked by and Gaby still stood still in front of Illya. “Weren’t you supposed get yourself a wine?” Illya asked.

“You’re not letting me go,” Gaby said.

Illya looked his hand that was holding his glass and noticed that his hand was pressed over Gaby’s fingers.

Gaby felt like she stood so still for a moment that she could feel everything. She felt Illya´s heartbeat through his fingers. She felt the scotch moving in the glass. She felt the rotation of earth, tides and movement of the continental plates. For a split second she was the axel that universe was spinning around. She felt like this was it, their time. And it was scary. She just wanted to run in the bedroom, close the door and hide under the covers. It would be so much easier than to stop being just friends. And that was what she wanted. She wanted to be more, but at the same time it was a change and it was always easier to stay still than move forward. But Gaby knew that this was it. If this didn’t happen now, Gaby feared that it may never happen. And that wasn’t an option. She just had to be strong. And it was only one step. She could do that.

“Sorry,” Illya said and let go of Gaby’s fingers.

Instead of Gaby letting go of the glass, she picked it up again and put in on the table. Then she pressed her hand against the curve on Illya´s neck, where there was just right place for it. She leaned close, lifted her knees one by one onto the couch, let them slide against Illya´s hips, wrapped her other hand over his shoulder and sat on his lap. Illya moved little underneath her, but didn’t stop her. He lifted his hands on her waist but only barely touched her.

“I kissed you last night,” Gaby said.

“I was not sure if that really happened,” Illya said.

“It did,” Gaby assured. “But it was an accident.”

“Accident?” Illya repeated.

“Yes. I was just barely awake and everything was a blur and I just wanted to comfort you,” Gaby explained. “It felt like I had done it hundreds of times before and it wasn’t any big deal. It felt like the natural thing to do. But it was an accident.”

Illya didn’t know what to say. He felt like he should say something, but nothing came to his mind.

“But this isn’t,” Gaby said, leaned closer and kissed him.


	16. Fading scars

They were kissing. This time Illya was sure. In the night it had felt like a dream, but this didn’t. This was happening. Gaby was happening. She was sitting in his lap, her thighs were pressing against his hips, and her hand wrapped behind his head. Her lips were on his lips. Finally Illya touched her properly. He slided his hand on Gaby’s narrow back and pulled her closer.

When their lips parted, Gaby pressed her forehead against his. She slide her hands on his neck and closed her eyes. It felt good to touch him. And his hands moving her back felt nice. Everything was soft and sweet, but Gaby felt like she had to hold herself back.

“Does it hurt you in somewhere?” Gaby asked and leaned away, so she could see Illya´s face. “Do you have some bruises that I need to be careful with?”

“No,” Illya said and pulled Gaby back to him.

“Good,” Gaby sighed and kissed Illya again. She pressed him against the couch and kissed him like her life was depending on it.

Just when Illya had been on same level with Gaby, when he had been sure what he was doing, he was again overrun. He couldn’t do anything to Gaby, except just go with it. She was pressing him to the couch like a tiny force of nature. Her kisses were strong and hungry. Her tongue was rubbing against his and her finders dig into his shoulders. When Gaby pulled away, Illya noticed that he was out of breath.

Gaby lifted herself away of Illya´s lap and grabbed his hand. ”Come,” he said.

Illya´s body stood up and did as Gaby told. His brain was still thinking should they talk about this, when he let Gaby to pull him in the bedroom. When he had imagined what it would be like to be with Gaby, he had imagined it slower. He was been the strong one who was going to carry Gaby to the bedroom and treated her like a gentlemen. And yet now it was Gaby who just pushed him on the bed and climbed on top of him. It was like their first night in Rome, when she had been strong and brave. But unlike then, now she was kissing him.

Gaby didn’t want to wait anymore. Not a one second. She felt like she had waited an eternity. All those night she had lied in her bed, enable to sleep, thinking of him. All that was going to stop. She wanted this now. She lifted herself so she could pull Illya to sit and yank his shirt off. Then she just pushed him back against the bed, so that the strings squeaked. Gaby opened only few buttons on her shirt and then pulled it off over her head. She leaned back to kiss him. Illya let her determinate the paste. Gaby opened his trousers and pulled Illya on top of her, so she could push the trousers down. Illya´s weight on her was comforting. It was the thing she had dreamed above all. Now she finally got to wrap her hands around his broad back and pull him close to her. She slide her hand on the bend on his lower back and felt all the muscles on her way. Gaby lifted her hips clear off the bed, so that Illya could pull her trousers down. She kissed him and wrapped herself on to him like a vine.

Illya didn’t remember anymore what he was imagined happening with Gaby. It didn’t matter anymore. Everything what was happening was true and that was only thing that mattered. He didn’t care how it was happening, as long as it wouldn’t stop. Illya responded Gaby´s enthusiasm and strip rest of her clothed off. He pressed against Gaby’s warm skin, inhaled her scent, kissed and touched her everywhere he was reaching. Gaby burrowed her fingers on his back and kissed his neck so hard, Illya was sure that she was leaving marks. And even if Cowboy was to point them out, he didn’t care. Gaby lifted her thighs against his hips and Illya didn’t want to wait anymore. He kissed Gaby´s neck when she bent it back and moaned. After that everything shattered in to pieces. There was only skin, moans, grabbing hands, throbbing and hungry kisses. It didn’t last very long, but it really didn’t have to. All that long restrained passion burned in one hot and bright flame.

When Illya felt that his body was working again, he pulled the blanked over them. He didn’t want Gaby to get cold. She was resting her head on his shoulder. Her hand was pressed softly on his chest and Illya press his own hand over it, so she couldn’t take it off.

“I’m thirsty,” Gaby muttered and rose to lean on her elbow.

“I can get you drink”, Illya said. He liked how Gaby’s messy hairs spread on her shoulders.

Gaby shook her head and smiled. “You are staying there. I’m taking care of you, remember?”

Illya felt like she was doing very good job. He let Gaby pull her hand away. He wondered would Gaby take the blanket with her, or just grab his cardigan to cover her up. But Gaby didn’t bother herself with that. She just walked naked across the room. Illya rose to lean on his elbows to watch her. There weren’t any lights on in the bedroom, but the light from the open door was enough to see. When she returned with a glass of water, the light was behind her, and it made her outlines shine white. Gaby put the glass on the nightstand. Illya didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was staring her. Gaby´s uninhibitedness was delightful.

“What?” Gaby asked when she climbed back to bed.

“Nothing,” Illya said.

“You are staring,” Gaby said smiling.

“You are naked,” Illya said truthfully.

Gaby sat on the bed. She watched Illya, her head tilted and her hair hanging over other shoulder. “Well, it would’ve been proper to cover myself up, but it felt stupid, because I was going to come back to bed anyway,” she noted.

“I think it was better this way,” Illya assured.

“Besides,” Gaby said and slide to lie on top of Illya. Her hand wrapped behind his head and she pushed her fingers in his hairs. “You couldn’t have watch me if I had put something on.”

“You really don’t need to bother because on me,” Illya said and smiled. “Ever.”

Gaby smiled back to him. ”So you wouldn’t be distracted, but I’m sure Napoleon would.”

“Oh, it would distract me,” Illya said. “But I would not mind.”

Gaby pressed her smiling lips on Illya´s. Her kisses were soft and tender, like earlier. Illya yanked the blanked off between them and wrapped it over Gaby. His body was touching again Gaby’s naked skin and it made all the nerve ends tinkled. Gaby didn’t rush anymore. She just stroked his chest slowly. She made her way for one bruise to other. They were light and yellowy, but she could only imagine what Illya had looked before.

“It is nothing I wouldn’t survive,” Illya said even though Gaby didn’t say anything.

Gaby´s face turned serious. “What else happened?” She asked and feared the answer.

Illya took Gaby’s hand in his own and watch her fingers so he didn’t have to look at her observant eyes. “Your cut healed nicely,” Illya said and moved her thumb on the scar in Gaby’s index finger. The one he had kissed better.

“You didn’t answer,” Gaby said.

“You don’t need to know all the details," Illya said. ”They wanted me to assure things that I could not assure them. Not because they were not true, but because they were already decided that I was a traitor. It did not matter what I said.”

Gaby nodded. “How bad these were before?”

“It doesn’t matter, you didn’t have to see them,” Illya said. He knew that Gaby could imagine what he had looked when he didn’t want to tell. But she was in his arms, and Illya wanted to remember this moment for that. He could tell later all the details, because he knew that Gaby wouldn’t give up. But not now. He would tell later, that after first day in Vorgutlag, his other eye was swelled shut and his both lips were split. He would tell that he couldn’t straighten his body for days because of fractured rib. It didn’t hurt anymore if he didn’t make any sudden twisting movements, so Gaby didn’t need to know it now. She didn’t need to know about the windowless concreate room or the electroshocks. It could all wait.

Gaby kissed all the bruises she could reach. She hoped they would heal quicker that way.

“Thank you for my photographs,” Illya said after a while, when Gaby had kissed all his bruises. “How did you find them?”

Gaby smiled to him. ”Because I know you.“

“How?” Illya wanted to know.

Gaby pressed her head on his shoulder and looked at him. “You are neat and organized. You don’t leave thing lying around, even your books are alphabetical order. You wouldn’t keep sprouted potatoes, you would throw then away,” she said and Illya snorted. “It was suspicion. And you are kind, so very kind. Usually nobody can notice that because you hide it under your grumpiness. But you always think other before yourself. And you loved you family, and it broke you when they disappeared from your life one by one,” Gaby stroked Illya´s cheek. “You have had stiches eighteen timed and you have a fractured rib, but you don’t want to tell me about it.”

Illya pulled Gaby closer to him.

Gaby moved her finger along a scar on Illya´s arm. “You got this one in explosion in Kiev. It took ages to heal, because there was gravel in it. You put black cherry jam in your tea. And you like my ankles and Coca-Cola.”

“That’s not true,” Illya denied.

“So why did you have so many bottles in your cellar?” Gaby asked.

Illya frowned. Of course Gaby had found those. ”Please do not tell Cowboy.”

Gaby laughed and rubbed her cheek on Illya´s shoulder. “And you like Napoleon even though you would like to claim otherwise. You like to compete with him on every weird thing. And you have started to lift your eyebrows same way. And when you think chess moves you rub your lips. You don’t rub those for any other thinking, just chess. And your favored part in Giselle was in second act when Myrtha comes to stage and dances her solo.”

“How would you know that?” Illya asked.

“Because you were watching me then,” Gaby said. ”It was your favorite part and you wanted to see did I like it.”

Illya smiled little and stroked Gaby’s back.

“And you are very bad at taking compliments,” Gaby said smiling. “Sometimes you say rude thing when you are nervous, even though you don’t mean those. You like strong women and nature, and you kisses make my hart race.”

Illya didn’t know was Gaby’s list continuing, but he interrupted it anyway and kissed her. Her hand wrapper again his head and her fingers pusher their way back in his hair. Illya felt like every kiss from Gaby made his scars fade.

“You liked it,” Illya muttered against Gaby´s lips.

“What?” Gaby whispered.

“Myrtha´s dance,” Illya said.

“Yes, I did,” Gaby said.

“You liked the whole second act,” Illya said.

“That’s easy,” Gaby said. “I have told that to everybody.”

“Well, I know that you danced ballet because of you grandmother, even when you didn’t really wanted to. And you stopped when she died because it just reminded of her,” Illya said and stroked the hair lock off Gaby’s cheek. “And you just cannot keep this lock behind your ear. But you still tried. You are brave even when you are scared. Like in the field yesterday. And you fear the sea and big fishes, but strangely not me. You like to show affection by pushing others with your shoulder. Sometimes you feel guilty because you miss more your foster father than your biological one. You sleep wrench under your pillow and you cannot keep you plants alive.”

“I don’t understand why they hate me,” Gaby sighed.

“And you can’t bake, but you still do it, if you know that it will make somebody happy,” Illya continued and make Gaby laugh. “You don’t order you favorite cake in cafes, because you are affray that it will be disappointing,” Illya pressed his face against Gaby’s hair. “You make me smile.”

Gaby pressed closer and wrapped her hand around Illya.

“You drink tea with Waverly ever Thursday. You mostly eat sandwiched and crackers at home. You still call pawns to raisins. Which is same time infuriating and so cute. And you make the sweetest noises during sex.”

Gaby blushed against Illya´s chest.

”That is quite new information,” Illya said and moved his hand on Gaby’s back.

Gaby bent her head back so she could see Illya´s face. She stroked his neck and sighed. “Am I your women now?” She asked.

”I thought that you were your own women,” Illya said smiling.

Gaby pouted her lips as she pondered. ”I can be both.”

Illya watched Gaby’s face while she was storing his neck. Her cheeks were red and she had this soft glow that he had never seen before. Illya realizes that he was the one who had made her glow like that. He leaned closer and kissed her. He could feel how Gaby smiled against his lips. Her smile stayed on when he pulled away. Illya pushed his hand in Gaby’s hair and pull her head closer to another kiss. Gaby made a little purr. He didn’t kiss any harder, he was just more thorough. And he knew Gaby liked it. Her finders pressed little harden on his shoulders and she was making the cutest little noise. Illya moved his hand on Gaby’s breast and she held her breath under it.

Gaby didn’t want to hurry anymore. She didn’t want to decide the paste, she let Illya do that. She was more happily compliant that active and allowed Illya to be as slow and thorough as he liked. There was only his touch on her skin and his Russian whispers in her ears. Afterwards she was much more out of breath than the first time. All her limbs were heavy and powerless. She could still feel the soft and warm throb in her body when she fell asleep curled up in Illya´s side.

Illya didn’t have nightmares that night. Gaby´s hand on his chest and warm body against him kept them away. But in the morning, her hand wasn’t there anymore. She wasn’t next to him in bed. And when he got up, he couldn’t find Gaby in the whole lodge. So Illya put clothes on and stepped outside. He looked around. Just when he was starting to get worried, he saw Gaby and her red coat to the end of the glen. Illya started walking towards her. He lifted his collar up, and pushed his hands in his coat pockets. The grown was growing heather and was soft to walk on. When he got closer, he see that Gaby was standing on a steep ledge and threw rocks to the sea.

“Have you been up for long?” Illya asked and Gaby jumped, like she so often did.

“About an hour,” she said and turned to him. “Usually you are the one who wakes first. But now you don’t even wake when I get up. But it’s good that you are resting.”

“And you came to throw rocks?” Illya asked and bended down to pick few rocks on the ground.

“I came to take a little walk,” Gaby said. “The throwing just happened.”

Illya smiled to Gaby. Wind was waving her bangs and her coat. Her cheeks were red and eyes bright. He wanted to pull Gaby in his arms and kiss her, but even after last night, he felt like he should have to ask permission. So instead he just threw few rocks. They flew further than Gaby’s.

“Showoff,” Gaby muttered, but was still smiling. “Are you hungry?” She asked.

“Yes,” Illya said after considering. He was starving.

Gaby threw her last rock. “Let’s get some breakfast,” she decided.

“Do you still want to do everything, or will I make the breakfast?” Illya asked when they started to walk back.

“You don’t know what I have learned since we have seen,” Gaby said. “Maybe I have been learning cooking.”

“Have you?” Illya asked with a hit of a smirk.

“No,” Gaby said smiling. “But I could have.”

Illya nodded. His hands were in his coat pockets as were Gaby’s in hers. He pondered how he could get her hand in his own.

“You don’t mind cooking?” Gaby asked.

“No,” Illya said. “I am looking forward of doing some normal things.”

“You can wash the dished too, if you want,” Gaby promised.

Illya smiled her.

“Have you decided what you are doing when we leave here?” Gaby asked. “I mean where you are going?”

“I don’t know,” Illya answered after a while. There was a crease between his brows. “I haven think about that.”

“The agency probably can accommodate you while you are thinking where you want to stay,” Gaby said. “Or you can go to a hotel.”

Illya nodded.

“Or, if you want, instead of hotel, to be somewhere more… homely, you can stay with me,” Gaby suggested. “There’s plenty of room.”

“Is there really?” Illya teased.

”Well there’s some room,” Gaby corrected.

Illya didn’t know what to say. “Yes… it is a… option...”

“But that was just a stupid suggestion,” Gaby said and shrugged her shoulders like it wasn’t a big deal.

“There are risks,” Illya said and stopped walking.

Gaby stopped only after few more steps so she didn’t stand too close to Illya. “I know,” she said quietly and looked her shoes. Then she forced a light smile on her face. “But like I said, it was silly idea. Let’s go, I’m hungry too.”

Illya grabbed Gaby’s arm as she was leaving and stopped her. She pulled her closer and Gaby had to turn to facing him. “I mean that the risk is yours,” Illya said. He lifted his gaze to Gaby’s eyes. “There’s a risk that if a get to stay with you, I may never leave.”

Gaby felt like she was out of breath. But the glen wasn’t that hard to walk, so it couldn’t be that. “Okay,” she said almost shyly.

“Okay?” Illya repeated.

”I will take that risk,” Gaby said. She didn’t smile, but her face was soft and glowing. She closed the gap between them and rose on her toes. Gaby took balance on Illya´s shoulder and pressed kiss on his cheek. Then another one next to it, and third on corner of his mouth. Slowly she lifted her lips and let Illya come to her.

Illya´s arms wrapped around Gaby when he pulled her in to kiss. Skin of her face was cool, but her mouth was warm.

“I think that you should be the one who tells this to Cowboy,” Illya muttered after he had let Gaby’s lips go.

“Oh no,” Gaby sighed. “He is going to arrange party or something else really embarrassing,” she muttered.

“I’m going to be busy that day,” Illya said.

“What a coincidence,” Gaby smiled. “Me too. Do you want to be busy with me?”

Illya lifted his brows like Napoleon.

“That sounded dirtier than I intended,” Gaby pointed out. “I didn’t mean that.”

“That’s a shame,” Illya said with a little grin on his lips.

Gaby smiled. Illya looked happier then she had seen him in long time. Then she remembered the frog and understood. It made her laugh.

“What?” Illya asked.

”It’s nothing,” Gaby said. ”I just understand why Napoleon called me frog.”

“Why?” Illya asked.

“I’m going to tell you,” Gaby promise, “right after you have told me all that had happened in the last six weeks.”

“Sounds fair,” Illya muttered against Gaby’s hair. He inhaled her scent. “We should go in. You are getting cold.”

“How can you tell?” Gaby asked and rubbed her cheek on Illya´s shoulder.

“Because you are you,” Illya said smiling. “And I know you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Beta reading by catherinegrace91 (it’s not ready yet, so the mistakes are still on me).


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